


Aftermath

by BlueDot77



Category: Split (2016)
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse, Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-10-23 12:11:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10719114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueDot77/pseuds/BlueDot77
Summary: Casey didn't expect a happy ending, but she did think that her part of that particular story had ended.





	1. Chapter 1

Casey's new apartment was small, but it felt like a mansion for her. When her parents died, they left her a good sum of money behind that was meant to go towards her college and living expenses. Her uncle was unable to touch the money until she turned eighteen- one of the many reasons he refused to release control over her. After coming forward to the police about him, he lost all of his control. At least, he lost his physical and financial control.

Despite her freedom, Casey felt trapped. It was as if she were locked inside her own body, suffocating within her skin. Her uncle was in prison, tried and convicted for years of abusive behavior. Ever since she turned eighteen and was set loose on the world, Casey found herself drifting from place to place. She always kept her apartment decoration to a minimum, only keeping the necessities. Casey rarely left her apartment. She did her schooling online and only left for the occasional grocery shopping and work. Her social life was nonexistent. She felt her throat close up whenever she left the safety of her apartment.

The news didn't help Casey's paranoia. The Hoard was on every channel for weeks, blowing up Casey's social media accounts with different renditions of the same story. Everywhere They went, carnage was left. People didn't want to believe it was the Hoard- they refused to believe it. Casey knew, though. Dennis and the others- the Beast- were the ones behind the various disappearances. Bodies would be found, torn apart as if an animal had happened upon them. Families grieved over young girls that were taken, but no one did anything.

The city imposed a curfew, but people still went missing. Police and neighborhood watch patrols escalated until it was impossible to go out at night without being frisked. You were advised not to travel alone. Some people saw these actions as progress, but Casey knew that nothing could stop the Hoard.

She needed to keep moving. Casey thought several times of fleeing the city, but something always held her back. There was a nagging feeling in the back of her brain. The city was the safest place for her- as long as she stayed inside as much as possible.

Casey sat on her love seat, causing the dark furniture to creak a bit. Her gun was laying on the dark brown coffee table in front of her. Ritually, Casey took the gun apart and began cleaning it before putting it back together. She turned on the safety and set the pistol back down. Pressing the palms of her hands into her thighs, Casey tried to calm her breathing.

_"I have red socks."_

Casey squeezed her eyes shut against Hedwig's voice. The therapist that made house calls for Casey suspected she had PTSD- both from the kidnapping and from her uncle's abuse. Casey took in a deep breath, counting until ten before letting it back out in a similar, controlled manner. She just needed control. Opening her eyes, Casey noticed that her gun was slightly askew. Her heart pumped a bit faster in her chest and there was a buzzing just behind her eyes.

 _Dennis would be pissed_ , Casey thought, straightening the gun so the barrel ran parallel with the grain of the wood. The buzz subsided and her pulse regulated as Casey relaxed back into the couch. Her sock clad feet toed the beige carpet and she contemplated when she last vacuumed.  _It never hurts to keep things clean._

Casey rose from the couch and padded over to the closet that she kept the vacuum cleaner in. She pulled out the fairly new, red Hoover vacuum and plugged into a nearby outlet, flipping it on.

Casey liked to clean. It distracted her. Once she was finished vacuuming the floor, Casey stowed it away and moved into the kitchen. All of the counter tops were made of a faux marble of black and white specks. The cabinets were a dark brown and the fridge was white. Casey pulled open the fridge by its long handle and perused the contents. There was a head of lettuce, a couple of tomatoes, and half a carton of orange juice. Sighing, Casey grabbed the orange juice and nudged the door closed with her foot. Casey fished a glass out of one of the higher cabinets and filled it two/thirds with orange juice before returning it to the fridge.

Glass of orange juice in hand, Casey returned to her living room and walked over to her bookshelf. Carefully, she picked up her notepad from the middle shelf and returned to the love seat. She needed to compile a grocery list.

 _I really wish I didn't have to go shopping tomorrow,_ Casey thought to herself, turning on the television to create background noise.

_"Despite police efforts, no progress has been made on the case of the missing Peterson twins- Alicia and Emilia. The two sophomores went missing two days ago while on a school sponsored trip to a local museum. No progress has been made on the case, but many are starting to speculate if this event is related to the rumors involving the disappearance of Kevin Crumb and his Hoard-"_

Casey quickly turned off the television, unable to listen any further.

_"The Beast is coming for you. He's coming for all of you."_

Again, Casey squeezed her eyes shut and steadied her breathing. Schooling her train of thought, Casey got up and grabbed her car keys and wallet whilst shoving the neatly folded list in her back pocket. She needed to go ahead and get her shopping done now. Leaving her apartment, Casey locked both of the locks and then departed down the stairs of her building. Casey made it outside fairly quickly and located her black Mazda Protege sitting in her assigned spot.

The car was fairly old compared to what she could have, realistically, been able to afford. Casey didn't mind the age. It was cheap and the old bucket got her where she needed to go. Having a car was a privilege Casey never even imagined. Now, as she settled into the worn out fabric of the driver's seat and her hands curled around the tattered leather steering wheel, Casey felt invincible. It was a fleeting feeling, but she treasured it.

Casey spent so much of her life either afraid or furious. That kind of fear that chills you to the bones, cutting so deep you can't even move. In that state, you can find yourself feeling nothing at all. The anger was the breed that bleeds red into your vision and black into your heart. 

How could no one have seen that something was wrong with her? Why were they all so blind? Why did  _she_ have to come forward? Why was Casey always stuck saving herself?

Turning the key in the ignition, Casey distracted herself from the negativity. Her engine sputtered to life beneath her touch and Casey shifted the car into reverse.

The grocery store was about six miles out from Casey's secluded apartment building. The ride always gave her the jitters. She sped along the road and her mind drifted towards the Hoard once more.

_"I'm trying...to be good."_

_What was that supposed to mean, Dennis?_ Casey wondered, tightening her grip on the wheel. The sun was already setting before her, turning the sky to a muddled mix of pink, purple, and gold.

_"You are Pure! Rejoice!"_

Casey felt her stomach roil at the memory of the Beast- the inhumane creature that wore a man's face. If she closed her eyes, she could still see his manic blue eyes staring back at her. Casey could hear the echoes of those metal bars groaning beneath his strength as he forced them apart and the sight of blood running between his white teeth from the pressure. The smell of gunpowder and blood hung in the air around Casey even now.

A horn blared and Casey jerked the wheel to the right to avoid the blinding yellow headlights of an oncoming vehicle. Her heart stuttered and she wondered if it might ever stop. Could people die from overexposure to stress and fear?

"Fuck," Casey swore, calming her thoughts. She felt like a bundle of nerves. It had been over two years since she last saw the Hoard. There was no reason for her to still be dwelling on it.

Her therapist kept recommending that Casey make 'life changes'. In some ways, Casey took her advice. She cut off all of her hair so now it brushed her collar bone in the front but went in an upwards angle to a back that barely made it halfway down her slender neck. Casey tried dressing in less layers by her therapist's request. Cutting down from one hoodie, a plaid over shirt, her henley, and a long sports bra was a challenge. She still only wore sports bras. Today, she was only wearing pale grey henley beneath a white tee.

_"It's progress, Casey."_

Casey's therapist was excited by the changes. Despite her bad history in regards to change in the past, Casey knew there was wisdom in her therapist's words. She needed to change in order to move on.

_Small steps._

The grocery store came into view and Casey pulled in, parking next to a red coupe and climbing out of her car. Lara's Organic Shoppe wasn't very large, but it was a bright spot against the darkening backdrop of the scenery. Casey only had a couple of hours before the curfew would go into effect. She grabbed a cherry red, plastic basket as she entered through the glass doors and stepped into the serene store. Light classical music played overhead and bright lights shined down from the high ceilings. Shelves higher than Casey's head lined up in aisles before her. She pulled her list out and made quick work of finding the items on it.

One good thing came from aging, Casey supposed. Fewer people recognized her as Casey Cooke- the only survivor of a three girl kidnapping that ended with the other two girls being disemboweled in cramped closets.

Claire appeared in Casey mind's eye- her pale hair and vibrant green eyes as she persuaded Casey to ride home with them. Casey imagined no one would have known what befell the other two girls had Casey not accepted the offer. Claire was a fighter but she was brash. She didn't think of the long play- only trusting in immediate action to present results.

Marcia was much more tentative, but she became desperate and unhinged.

They weren't Pure like Casey- not in the Beast's eyes.

"Forty-seven, forty-two," a female voice snipped. Casey looked up and saw the cashier staring at her expectantly, one black eyebrow raised. Her hair was a pixie with streaks of teal and red mixed in with the black. Her nose was pierced with a single gold ring going through it and there were spider bite piercings beneath her red painted lips. Casey blinked dumbly at her before realizing that her total was glowing in green, stilted writing on the register screen.

"Sorry," she apologized stiffly, fumbling through her wallet and pulling out a couple of twenties and a ten. Casey collected her bags as the cashier counted out her change, accepting the offered two dollars and fifty-eight cents. Shoving it into her pocket, Casey left the grocery store with all of her purchases gathered in her arms. Lara's used brown, paper bags that were a bit cumbersome. Casey peered over them as she made her way over to her car, popping the trunk with the remote on her key. She put away the groceries in her trunk and was checking them when she heard a skitter of footsteps behind her. Casey turned and saw no one and nothing- only other empty cars and litter.

The sun was below the horizon now and the sky was a canvas of indigo and violet with the beginning hints of stars appearing in the East. Curfew was fast approaching. Casey slammed her trunk shut and made her way over to the car door. She was beginning to pull it open when she heard the skittering again. Casey spun towards the sound and caught a glimpse of a large figure darting out of the halo of light that the street lamp produced.

"Who's there?" Casey called out, feeling like the dumb first victim in a horror flick.

 _I've already been through my nightmare, thank you very much,_ Casey thought, recalling the second pistol that she kept under her driver's seat. If she could just get the door open...

The door clicked open under Casey's touch and she thought she saw a pair of eyes staring out at her from the edge of the light. The whites of the eyes reflected the small amount of illumination that the street lamp created in that area. Casey crouched and her hand wrapped around the gun. She drew it out and when she lifted her body up to see the figure again, it was gone.

Casey turned her head and saw a grim face staring out at her. Her voice caught in her throat. He had to be a figment of her imagination. Panicked, Casey ducked into the car and slammed the door shut behind her. She locked the doors and turned the key in the ignition. Her hands were quivering as she wrapped them around the wheel and peeled out of the parking lot. Her gun jostled in the passenger seat- within reach but still useless if Casey's eyes hadn't deceived her. Casey drove home the long way, taking extra turns until, eventually, she made her way to her apartment building.

It took some time for Casey to calm her nerves enough to get out of the car. She made her way to the trunk and picked up the bags. As she shut the trunk, she spotted a nearby red coupe that she recognized. Her mind couldn't quite place it and she assumed it belonged to one of her neighbors. Shrugging, Casey approached the front of her building.

Punching her numbers into the code box, Casey let herself into the building and began making her way up the stairs. Someone caught the door behind her and she jolted away from the figure.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," the guy commented in a somewhat forced New York accent. He was wearing a baseball cap with the bill bent down over his eyes. His shirt was a navy button up that strained over the muscles in his arms. Casey nodded stiffly, but scurried up the stairs without a word towards him. He seemed familiar, but Casey was sure she didn't know him from her building. He might be a guest of one of her neighbors. Climbing two flights of stairs, Casey made it to her door and took note of the Post It on the door. It was from her neighbor in 6B.

_Casey,_

_Having a party tomorrow night- hope you'll come hang._

_-Dylan_

"No, thank you," Casey muttered under breath. Dylan was nice enough, but parties made Casey's skin feel like fire.

Casey finished unlocking her door and pushed it open. She heard movement behind her and then a cloth covered her mouth- a canary yellow handkerchief. She was turned and a man held up a small canister. It was the guy in the baseball cap. His head lifted and Casey saw a pair of blue eyes before he sprayed her in the face. Casey vaguely recalled the sensation of the drug overriding her systems. Her muscular control went first, sending her tumbling forward into a pair of waiting arms. She was hefted up into those arms and smelled the detergent on his shirt. Casey's tongue numbed in her mouth, swelling into a dead weight that choked off the air in her throat.

Next, Casey's vision began to fail her. Clouds of black encroached upon her vision as the world turned to a milky mix of colors. Casey fought against the feeling in a vain hope that she could free herself from her captor's grasp. She couldn't let him have her- not again.

Casey awoke with a dull headache and a cotton-like taste in her mouth. Her eyelashes felt as if they were fused together at the seam between her lids. She peeled them apart and cringed at the bright light that spilled into her sight. She was on a twin size bed that was tucked into a corner of an unfamiliar room. The heavy comforter that weighed her down was navy and spilled along her waist as Casey pulled herself up into a sitting position. Her head swam from the movement and she quickly raised a hand to steady the nauseous sensation.

The room had pale yellow walls and mahogany floorboards. It didn't have much in the way of furnishings- only the bed, really. There were two sliding doors of a sterile white shade with slits in them. Casey suspected that the doors opened to reveal a closet.

There was another door in the room that was made of a pale wood. Casey heard shuffling on the other side and struggled to scurry further up her bed, wedging her body into the corner. The door swung into the room and a man stepped in. Immediately, Casey recognized the thin-framed glasses and immaculately dressed man as Dennis. Just as she remembered, his dark grey shirt was buttoned up to his throat and tucked into a pair of freshly ironed slacks. Dennis seemed mildly surprised by Casey's aware form, taking in her wide brown eyes and slightly disheveled appearance.

"You seem familiar," Dennis remarked, narrowing his eyes at Casey. It occurred to her that, perhaps, Dennis didn't recognize her right away. Surely, time had impacted his memory of her. Whatever image he had of Casey Cooke was distorted from the years. It probably helped that she'd grown some since they last met. Her features were no longer quite as soft and her body filled out a bit more in some places.

For a moment, Casey wondered if it would be better for Dennis not to remember that it was her that spent days under his and Patricia's control.

"You're Kevin Wenda-"

" _Don't_ say that name," Dennis cut her off, flinching at the mere sound of it. His eyes flashed a bit. "Patricia reminded me that you are here for a purpose- to help usher in the new age. The impure shall be purified."

 _Not this again,_ Casey mentally pleaded. Their fanatical beliefs already caused a sizable amount of destruction.

Before Casey could speak, she was being grabbed by her leg and yanked forward. Her back collided roughly against the mattress. Casey tried to scramble away from Dennis as he loomed over her, swinging one of his legs over her body and pressing it just outside her left thigh. Dennis planted a hand beside Casey's head and the mattress shifted beneath his weight. The grip on her legs lessened and that hand slid up her side until it reached Casey's waist. Dennis's touch was warm and firm, leaving no room for Casey to free herself from his grasp.

His head dipped low and Casey felt the warm caress of his breath across her skin. Chills ran across her neck and down her back. Casey hadn't been this close to another person since she laid in bed with Hedwig all those years ago.

"People like you- you've never known suffering. You've been  _pampered_. You are  _weak_ ," Dennis growled. Casey whimpered and hated herself for the small show of helplessness. She couldn't let herself become a quivering mess.

_"That's victim shit!"_

Casey cursed the traitorous tear that slipped down from the corner of her eye. Claire was kind to Casey- kinder than most. Even if the party invite was an act of pity, most people didn't even acknowledge Casey's existence. That party changed Casey's life, one way or another.

Casey recalled the look of ecstasy that filled the Beast's blue eyes when he glimpsed her scars.

Dennis's lips grazed her jawline and then hit bit down roughly upon her neck. Casey let out a strangled cry as vision of the beast tearing into Claire's abdomen flashed in her mind's eye.

"Dennis, please!" Casey begged, tangling her hands in his shirt and trying to push him off of her. Dennis's body stilled, going ramrod straight. He pulled away from her, gazing down at her with a furrow in his brow. His mouth pressed into a line as his eyes searched her face. Wordlessly, Dennis rose from the bed and left the room. Casey's chest heaved with each relieved breath and she could hear her blood rushing in her ears. The door slammed shut behind him and Casey heard the door's lock slide into place. Casey gathered up her knees against her chest, not tearing her eyes from the door for some time.

She'd slipped up by saying his name aloud.

_Giving something a name gives it power over you._


	2. Nostalgia

Time passed without Casey hearing much from her captor beyond the occasional approach of steps that would end at her door before receding back from whence they came. Casey began to feel hunger twisting in her stomach, causing her to clutch at it with a grimace. She'd starved before and she didn't fear having to do it again. Most of her childhood and into her later teenage years, Casey was forced to come home to a monster. She could still remember the feeling of her uncle's thick, rough hands grasping at her frail form.

The difference between Dennis and her uncle laid in the fact that Dennis's Beast was corporeal whereas her uncle's was beneath the skin.

Casey's uncle was a charming man- when he wanted to be. His booming laughter filled room and his eyes sparkled with mirth. As a young child, Casey once equated him to a young Santa Claus. As she grew, his eyes twisted into something else. A darkness bloomed within his irises until it consumed them. He began standing too close and staring just a hair too long. Casey's father never knew- he couldn't have known.

As Casey stared into the mirror in her temporary bathroom, she could see a shadow of that darkness that her uncle possessed in her own brown eyes. He'd stained her with it. The taint was in her skin and blood, curdling inside her heart until her chest ached. It formed in the scars that bloomed up from her abdomen and low on her shoulders.

Kevin's darkness- his Beast- marked Casey as well. A crescent shaped scar with a discolored patch of skin on her left calf. She stared at it now, probing the skin there with one finger as the shower water began to warm. All of Casey's clothing was neatly folded and settled on the corner of the sink. The mirror was beginning to fog, covering her image. Turning away, Casey felt the water before stepping into the shower. This bathroom was bigger than the one in her apartment. All of the furnishings were a pristine white porcelain and the curtain was a blurred, clear piece of plastic that distorted the view of the other side.

Stinging, hot water coursed over her bare skin and Casey took stock of the soaps Dennis provided her with. They were cherry scented- a mild surprised for Casey. She assumed Dennis would be the type to only use unscented shampoos. Casey lathered think pink shampoo into a foam in her. Her fingers always slid back too far, expecting her hair to continue off past where she cut it. Soap slipped into the mark on her neck and Casey let out a hiss. As Casey began rinsing, she heard a commotion outside the bathroom door. There was a knock on the wood and, instinctively, Casey covered herself with her arms.

"What?" Casey hollered over the torrent of water. The door cracked a bit and Casey peered around the edge of the curtain.

It was Dennis. She could tell be the flash of his glasses in the one inch gap.

"I apologize. Your lunch- I left it on your bed. Please, clean up your mess. Patricia- You have clean clothes in the room as well. Please leave those in the hamper. I will collect them when I come with your dinner," Dennis informed her in a strained voice. The door slid shut and Casey hesitantly resumed her shower. She listened, straining her ear to hear the sound of Dennis leaving through the door to her room. Once he was gone, she relaxed. Quickly, Casey finished her shower and slipped out, stepping onto the linoleum. She fumbled through the cupboard beneath the sink and found a thin, white towel that she used to dry off.

As instructed, Casey deposited her clothing and the used towel into the small hamper by the sink. She was tentative about leaving the confines of the bathroom, but finally she willed herself to turn the handle. Her 'bedroom' was void of any other person and she spotted a metal tray with a bowl of fruit laying on her bed beside a small stack of clothing. Casey was wary of the new ensemble. She'd opted to stay in her own underwear and, to her relief, Patricia didn't attempt to give her any this time around. Casey slipped into the dark wash jeans and a familiar loose tee shirt.

 _These are my clothes_ , Casey thought, realizing that Patricia must have taken the clothing from her apartment when they took her. It was a much more appeasing alternative to Dennis gradually stripping her of clothing he deemed 'dirty'. Upon reflection, Casey realized that there was, perhaps, a bit more behind the gesture than simple cleanliness. Bothering to grab clothing for her implied that Dennis and the rest of the Hoard intended to keep her here for a good deal of time. The gears in Casey's mind began working as she tried to think of a way out of this mess. Perhaps, she could try to gain favor with one of Kevin's more lenient personalities.

Unfortunately, she was sure that her relationship with the naive Hedwig was still tarnished. If he did recognize her, it was likely he would loathe her presence even more than the others.

Patricia wasn't an option. Casey was certain that the matronly personality held no real consideration for human life. She was a Beast in her own right- just the kind that lurked in the shallows, awaiting the opportunity to lurch free.

That left Casey with only one plausible option- Dennis. Without an ability to draw out any of Kevin's other personalities, Casey was stuck with Dennis. He was much more intelligent than Hedwig and far stronger than Patricia. If Casey hadn't heard Patricia berate him into submission, she would have considered him to be one of Kevin's dominant personalities. If she could cause even a fraction of doubt within him, she believed that Dennis could be turned against the Beast. He was the only one that might stand a chance against the Beast.

Of course, Dennis didn't possess the same maternal hold over Hedwig that Patricia did. Hedwig was the one with the power to steal the light. He could simply steal power from Dennis so that the Beast could regain control.

She needed someone with that same command over the light that could pair with Dennis's strength.

Casey wracked her brain, trying to recall the names she'd seen on Kevin's computer. There was a voice that rose in the back of her mind, speaking in much sweeter tone than Dennis. She remembered the flicker of expression that crossed Kevin's face as the personalities surged forward to stop Casey from killing them.

_"Oh sweetie..."_

_"I decide who gets the light, right? But, lately, I feel like someone else is...taking control of the light from me..."_

"Barry," Casey mumbled, recalling the video of him lounging in the chair and speaking about his own concerns with the Hoard.

Casey let her mind wander as she settled back on the bed and began eating the fruit. The white grapes were juicy and tart. It was much better than cheese sandwiches with mayonnaise. She finished the fruit in the bowl and set it back on the tray. Her hair was mostly dry but some clumps of it were still damp. Footsteps approached from outside the door and the door swung open yet again. Dennis appeared in the doorway in a black dress shirt and equally dark slacks. He adjusted his glasses further up his nose and scrunched it a bit in distaste. For a moment, he looked as if he were going to simply fetch her clothing out of the hamper but then he stopped mid stride. Dennis's blue eyes turned towards Casey.

"You knew my name," he acknowledged. "I- I haven't told you my name."

Dennis took a few reluctant steps towards her. His brows drew together in confusion. He shifted the tray to the side and sat on the edge of the bed, hiking up one leg so he could better turn his body towards Casey's. Dennis's eyes looked her up and down, lingering on the remnants of the bite mark on her neck. After a beat of silence, Dennis's gaze finished travelling up to her face.

"I know you from somewhere, don't I?" Dennis inquired. Casey nodded stiffly in response, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. There was no use denying it. Once Dennis was convinced of something, there was no dissuading him. "I remember you now. You were the Pure one."

"My name is Casey- Casey Cooke," she admitted warily, watching Dennis for any hint of a reaction. She expected anger- a fury the likes of which would result in her body being left in a tattered mess of bone and flesh.

"I messed up- again," Dennis growled, his eyes fluttering closed as he clutched the sides of it. "You just looked- you were-"

Dennis's face softened and his words caught in his throat. His hands fell to his side and Casey noticed the shallow, crescent impressions left in his skin. Gracefully, one of his hands lifted and removed the spectacles from his face.

"No need to upset yourself, Dennis," a lilting voice spoke. A chill ran down Casey's spine and she scuttled back towards the wall, pushing the covers up like the sloppy pile would separate her from Patricia. Patricia laughed lightly at her.

"You'll have to excuse Dennis, my dear. He hasn't been feeling quite himself as of late," Patricia informed Casey in her formal, almost British tone. Recognition sparkled in Patricia's eyes as she gazed at Casey. "I would like to apologize for my behavior towards you in the past. Had I known that you were Pure, I would have behaved accordingly."

Casey highly doubted that.

"This is a good thing though, even if Dennis doesn't recognize that. The Beast remembers you," Patricia remarked. Casey shivered at the mention of the Beast and the darkness that lurked in Patricia's eyes. "There is no need to be frightened, my dear. We are of the same cloth."

"I am nothing like you," Casey spat, vivid memories of Claire choking out her last dying whimper flashing in Casey's mind. She vividly remembered the flash of anger in Patricia's eyes as Marcia fled. The Beast lived within Patricia's irises.

"No need to get nasty, my dear. We're actually very happy to have found you. You will do very nicely for what is to come," Patricia assured Casey in a patronizing tone. "I am going to fetch your laundry for Dennis."

Patricia moved into the bathroom and Casey eyed the door that led out of her room. She felt the itch in her muscles. If she made a run for it now, Patricia would catch her. Case didn't know the layout of the house- if it even was a house this time.

 _If Patricia were to give way to Dennis, he could catch me before I made it ten feet from the door,_ Casey thought, casting a wary gaze at her captor's back.  _Better to wait._

Patricia reentered the room, smiling at Casey the way a cat might smile at a fresh kill. She was cradling Casey's discarded clothing in her muscular arms.

"How is Hedwig?" Casey asked, frowning a bit. The question nagged at the back of her mind. Hedwig was impressionable. Casey was sure that he just fell into the wrong crowd. He was not a naturally horrid child. At Casey's question, Patricia's smile tightened.

"We are all as we should be- as we must be," Patricia informed her, leaving the room. Casey pondered at the meaning behind Patricia's words, wondering if Patricia's carefully crafted regime of blindly loyal followers was beginning to deteriorate. Dennis was unstable, even Casey could gather that much. He was barely retaining a thin faced of control. Casey could empathize with the feeling.

She took in the disheveled state of her bed with a grimace and set about fixing it.

An hour passed before someone came back by Casey's room. It was Dennis, of course. He hesitantly entered, not quite meeting her gaze as he grabbed the tray from her bed and turned to exit.

"Dennis, wait," Casey called after him. The tall man halted in his steps and turned. His eyes slowly rose to meet Casey's. Resolved, Casey rose from the bed and began approaching him the way one might walk up to an injured animal. "After you clean that, will you come back? I would like to talk to you, if it's okay. I've been kind of lonely in here."

It was a partial lie. Casey was accustomed to a solitary lifestyle. She would rarely seek out social interaction outside of her class discussion boards.

"I'm not sure that would be a good idea," Dennis replied.

"Please, Dennis," Casey pleaded, reaching up and resting her hand on his bicep. He was very warm- almost feverish- to the touch.

"I will be back in half an hour," Dennis acquiesced. A small smile tugged at the corner of Casey's lips and she gave Dennis's arm a reassuring squeeze. He nodded and then turned, leaving Casey's room. There was a moment that stretched on for an eternity when he shut the door. Then Casey finally heard the lock slide into place. Dennis hesitated.


	3. Protection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey needs to understand Dennis but, more than that, she needs Dennis on her side if she is ever going to stop the Beast and Patricia's mysterious plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the length of this particular chapter. The next will be longer, I assure you.

True to his word, Dennis returned to Casey's room. He brought a wooden fold out chair along with him and, after shutting the door behind him, he set the chair out next to her bed. Settling into his seat, Dennis looked much more relaxed than he had earlier. Casey took the moment of silence between them to observe Dennis. All of the personalities were distinct in their own rights, but something about Dennis felt  _real_ to Casey. She knew he wasn't the original personality. After meeting Kevin for herself, Casey found herself obsessed with comprehending the disorder.

Her therapist thought that Casey's obsession with DID was unhealthy but, for months, Casey was unable to tear herself away. She even came across some of Dr. Fletcher's research during that time. The elderly woman that had died down in that hellhole- just another one of the Beast's victims- had been Kevin's therapist and, Casey suspected, a confidant for the various personalities that dwelled within his body.. A few times, Casey came across some of Dr. Fletcher's interviews where she was sure the woman was referring to Kevin or one of his alters.

"When did you come into the light?" Casey inquired, watching Dennis's features for anything that might betray his emotions. Dennis seemed surprised by Casey's question. His eyebrows both rose a bit and that deep crease between them diminished. "Hedwig told me once that you all sit in a room- in chairs. I did some research into your...situation. Sometimes personalities can manifest in even young children after they are exposed to extreme duress."

There was a long silence that filled the room like water rushing up and over Casey's head. She was drowning in it.

"Kevin was three when he met me," Dennis answered, breaking the oppressive silence. "His mother did...awful things to him- things no child could get through. I protected Kevin from her. She liked things to be neat and orderly. I could do that."

"You've been with Kevin for a long time, then," Casey reasoned, folding her legs beneath her as she turned her whole body towards Dennis.

"I wasn't enough though. Kevin- he can't handle reality very well. It overwhelms him," Dennis explained. He seemed relieved to be talking about it, but Casey was aware that the man had yet to fully lower his guard around her. It reminded her of discussions with her therapist. Dennis bared a resemblance to Casey in that way.

"Do you want to ask me about something? So it's fair?" Casey offered. If she could establish a bit of give and take with Dennis, perhaps she could earn his trust.

Dennis's eyebrows furrowed in the center, just above the bridge of the nose, as he considered her offer. His eyes flickered down to her stomach.

"You have scars," Dennis remarked, looking up at Casey for confirmation. She nodded. "Who did that to you?"

Casey's chest swelled painfully. Even after testifying in court about her uncle, it was still difficult to speak about it. It's something that people expect to get easier over time but, for Casey, the pain was still just as fresh. If she let her guard down for even a moment, she could feel the ghost of his meaty paws grasping at her.

"My uncle," she finally choked out. It was only two words- she didn't even speak his name- but it felt as if Casey was sitting on the stand all over again, having to relive every sordid detail of her life for strangers. Her eyes rose to meet Dennis's gaze and she was surprised by the gentleness in his blues. A suffocating pressure lifted from her chest and Casey cleared her throat. "He's in prison now."

"What he did made you stronger. You defeated your beast," Dennis remarked. Casey caught the last word only barely. Dennis said 'beast' in almost a whisper- as if he couldn't bear the weight of his own words.

"Sometimes I'm not sure anyone really won that fight," Casey admitted. Dennis adjusted his glasses a bit and Casey watched his eyes travel down to her chest before dropping guiltily towards the comforter.

"Have you defeated your beast, Dennis?" Casey inquired, shifting a bit closer to him. Dennis looked back up at her, mildly startled by her question. A grimace pulled at his lips.

"No."

The answer was short and more than Casey expected. In all honesty, she'd anticipated a stern glare accompanied with more awkward silence. Instead, Dennis's answer hung in the air between them. There seemed to a be a shell separating her from the man in front of her. If Casey was going to gain Dennis's trust, she needed to crack through that barrier.

Tentatively, Casey grasped her shirt by the hem and pulled it overhead so she was sitting in front of Dennis in only her sports bra. His mouth fell partially open in shock. Casey felt self conscious baring herself in such a way- especially in front of him. A dry laugh nearly left Casey as she thought about how pleased her therapist would be to hear that Casey let someone see her scars. Although, she suspected that the context of the situation would give her therapist pause.

"Do you want to touch them?" Casey asked when Dennis continued to say nothing and just stared at her. Casey moved a bit closer to Dennis, smiling encouragingly and waiting patiently for him to make the next move. He reached out and one of his fingers brushed a particularly nasty cigarette burn on Casey's stomach. She tried to contain a flinch at the contact. No one touched her scars and no one marveled at them the way Dennis was now. He touched each one as if it were a gem pressed into her flesh rather than marks of her uncle's twisted abuse.

Casey always saw her marks like ink carved into her skin that read all of the terrible things Uncle John called her as he made each one.

 _Whore_ ran in a crescent just to the right of her belly button.  _Slut_ was burned into the skin residing above the waist band of her jeans.  _Bitch_ marred the skin of her left shoulder blade, a sliver below where her shirt collar usually covered.

"You...are so strong. To have handled all of this suffering on your own...," Dennis remarked, gazing back up at her. She could see the smallest bit of uncertainty in his gaze. "Kevin..."

"Kevin doesn't handle reality very well, does he?" Casey inquired, remembering the fragile Kevin Crumb. She'd only known him for a minute, but the shattered gaze he directed at her was forever embedded into her memory. "Do you ever wonder if you've protected him from too much? Maybe Kevin can't handle reality because he hasn't learned how?"

"We- I just want to keep him safe. We're making the world better for him- so that he can share the light with us again," Dennis informed Casey.

"Do you think Kevin would be able to handle what you've done?" Casey asked. Dennis's eyes fell to his hands. They balled themselves into fists so tight that the knuckles bleached white under the strain. Dennis's chest quivered with each shaky inhale of air into his lungs. Hesitant, Casey reached out and splayed her hand across his shoulder. "Can you handle it?"

"The Beast-"

"Forget about the Beast for one moment," Casey implored, knowing that she was getting a bit reckless in her own desperation. "What do  _you_ think is right for Kevin- for all of you? You've been with Kevin the longest, right? You are his protector- his last line of defense against the harshness of the world. The others all help Kevin in their own way, but you know Kevin. You know how he would feel if he knew the truth. If you finish what the Beast has planned, Kevin will never be able to handle reality. He'll hate himself for not being strong enough."

Casey's mind slipped back to the heavy weight of her father's shotgun in her hand as she aimed the barrel at her approaching uncle. Her small, childlike hands poised over the trigger and her body shook with fear. He wasn't her uncle. He was something else- a beast with a shadow ten miles long that brought only agony. For years, Casey hated herself for not unloading those shells into her uncle's body right then and there. He was in her sights, but she was too weak.

"I'm not Hedwig," Dennis suddenly blurted, raising his gaze to meet Casey's. His eyes narrowed. "I won't be swayed by your words. The Beast is strong- stronger than any of us. He can do more for Kevin than I ever could."

"I know you're not Hedwig, Dennis. I don't want to trick you. I want to help you!" Casey insisted, shifting her body so close to Dennis's that their legs brushed. He stilled at the added contact. The aggression faded from his eyes and they began to glaze over. Casey could feel Dennis slipping away. "Please, don't leave me. I need you, Dennis."

Casey felt her voice begin to crack in desperation. Her mind analyzed everything she knew about Dennis, trying to come up with something to keep him in the light.

"Protect me."


	4. Deterioration

A sickly sweet smile pulled up at the corner of his lips and Casey realized with a shiver of horror that she was too late. Patricia plucked the glasses off of her face and folded them, setting them down delicately on the end of the bed. The female personality's eyes sparkled with mirth.

"It's time for your first test, my dear," Patricia informed her, patting Casey on the leg. Her eyes dragged down to Casey's exposed stomach. "I hope I am not interrupting anything."

Patricia stood, taking Dennis's chair with her as she left the room. The door shut and locked with no hesitation. Casey felt her body slip from the bed and go tumbling towards the door. Her hands pounded against the hard wood. Casey felt strangely detached from the sensation- as if she were staring at herself in third person. A desperate cry rippled up from her throat but it sounded like the dying screech of a crippled animal. The screams became words- names- but no one appeared. Minutes passed that stretched like hours for Casey before her hands finally fell to her side. They were red and, in some places, the skin split open to give way to a thin, bright line of blood.

All of her strength fled from her limbs and Casey was left staring at the wood. After what seemed like ages, Casey heard the sound of heels clicking against wood. The door knob turned and Casey scuttled away from it. Patricia stood on the other side in a matronly black skirt and a maroon sweater with a dark grey shawl. A large pendant hung between her pectoral muscles. She was wielding a large knife and smiling down at Casey.

Her smile reminded Casey of how a wolf might grin at you through the dark underbrush. It knows that you have no escape and the fear pumping blood through your veins only excites the predator further. If Patricia's lips pulled apart to reveal wolf-like fangs, Casey wouldn't have been startled.

Patricia bent down and set the knife on the ground in front of Casey and then left without saying a word.

 _What's her game?_ Casey wondered, eyeing the door as the lock slid into place. Patricia wasn't exactly the silent type. Casey's eyes moved down to the knife on the floor. The metal blade reflected the light of the room. Unsure what to do, Casey crawled closer to it and wrapped her hand around the handle. It was smooth and black. Casey's mind ran wild with theories as to what Patricia was planning.

She mentioned that it was time for Casey's first test.

 _What am I supposed to be doing?_ Casey wondered.

Casey kept her hand wrapped around the knife as she shakily made her way onto her feet. Her throat was burning from the strain she put on her vocal chords. She moved back over to her bed and lifted her shirt back over her head. She slipped it back on and pulled the hem down. Casey crawled back onto the bed and curled herself into the corner. Time passed and, yet again, Casey's mind strayed towards thoughts of starvation. Her stomach was beginning to twist and tighten with the beginning of hunger pains.

Her mind strayed to what she could do to get out. She could try to hack at the door with the knife near where the lock would be, but that would cause major wear on the blade. Since it was her only weapon, Casey couldn't risk wasting it.

 _Even if I get out of here, Patricia is somewhere on the other side of that door,_ Casey reasoned.

Hours passed and Casey found herself pacing the perimeter of the room. She could no longer bring herself to wait in one place. Her muscles were beginning to ache from lack of motion. Exhaustion set in and Casey wondered just how long it had been since she'd seen Patricia. Her grip on the knife never wavered even as her hand began to feel stiff.

 _They'll come back,_ Casey assured herself.

Casey eyed the knife in her hand and she began thinking about it more and more. There was one way out of this room, she realized. Her finger ran the edge of the blade and it was sharp enough to cut the skin on contact. Blood beaded up in the knife's wake.

A scream ripped its way through the walls and Casey felt her blood run cold. It was an unfamiliar, feminine scream from somewhere below her. Casey ran to the door and pressed her ear to the wood, trying to listen for any further sound. The distant sound of someone sobbing met her ears and then there was a harsh 'crack' of splintering wood. The building went silent.

Casey felt her stomach drop.

 _Are they still hunting?_ Casey pondered, crouching in front of the only exit in her room.

Her thoughts began to go astray despite her struggle to keep her mind on a straight path. She scrunched her eyes closed and tried to school her breathing. Casey tried forcing her brain to count to ten as she inhaled. The knife tumbled to the floor.

_"In the sun, we will find our passion. In the sun, we will find our purpose."_

Casey's eyes opened at the breath was forced out of her lungs. She was back in the belly of the beast. Patricia was behind her, reciting her mantra as Casey's feet dragged along. Then vision shifted and Casey felt her legs buckle beneath her as she collapsed to the ground. Something hard ripped into her leg and Casey felt her scream trap itself in her throat. She was choking on the bubble of panic.

So much pain and the Beast was still pursuing her. Casey scrambled to her feet, fumbling through the darkness until her hands found a door. She slammed against it with all of her might, throwing her body at the door.

"Someone! Help me!" Casey pleaded into the darkness. Her heart beat was beginning to hasten until she thought it might explode from her chest. A hand touched her shoulder and Casey felt herself tumble further into the abyss. She fell to the ground and when she looked up her uncle was on top of her. His hot, alcoholic breath fanned across her face and she whimpered, trying to slip out of his grasp.

Casey clawed at her uncle, trying to break free of his grasp. His hands wrapped around her wrists like vices and she was forced onto her back. Both of his knees pressed into her thighs, holding her legs down.

"Casey!  _Casey_!" a panicked voice left her uncle but it didn't quite fit his mouth. Casey couldn't spare the time to think on it. Water was filling the room around her and Casey was choking on the water that filled her lungs. She sputtered and coughed, trying to break free of her uncle's grasp even as he held her under.

Casey was wrenched upwards and bright light filled her vision. Her hands reached out and touched smooth porcelain. She was laying in a bath rub- still in her clothing despite the high level of lukewarm water. Dennis was over her, his hands clasping her upper arms. There was a wide panic in his bright blue eyes. Casey noticed three long scratch marks in the side of his neck that were bleeding. Looking down at her own hand, she spotted blood and bits of skin beneath her fingernails.

"Di-Did I attack you?" she asked, unable to meet his gaze. 

"I'll go get you a change of clothes," Dennis offered, helping Casey out of the tub. His muscles were wound tight and he was burning hot against her skin. Casey wondered how Dennis was handling the soaked state of his own clothing. Dennis pulled a towel out from beneath the sink and offered it to Casey. Grateful, Casey wrapped the towel around her shoulders and tried to fight back the chill in her skin. Her shirt was clinging to her skin and her pants were heavy from the water. Even her underwear was wet. "I apologize. You were-"

"Thank you," Casey interrupted, wrapping her arms around Dennis's torso. She pulled back and met his gaze. "You protected me."

"You shouldn't thank me," Dennis protested with a frown. He left the room- supposedly to fetch more of Casey's clothing. Once he was gone, Casey peeled off her wet clothing and deposited it in the hamper. Casey ran her fingers through her tangled hair, trying to bring it back into presentable shape. She wound the towel around her body and tucked one corner in so that it stayed as she left the small room and reentered her bedroom. Dennis opened the door and stopped mid step when he spotted her. His eyes took in the exposed, pale flesh of her legs and the crescent scar on her calf.

He'd changed clothing into a dark green dress shirt tucked into a pair of fresh, black slacks. Dennis was holding a neatly folded stack of clothing and Casey recognized her underwear on top. His cheeks were turning an endearing shade of red.

"Thank you, Dennis," Casey stated, striding forward and allowing her hands to brush his as she took the clothing from him. "I'm going to change in the bathroom if you want to wait for me out here."

Without waiting for his reply, Casey returned to the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Casey made quick work of slipping on her pale blue sports bra and pair of matching hipsters. Over her underwear, she pulled on a red shirt with sleeves that came down to her forearms. She pulled on a pair of black skinny jeans next and nearly laughed at the pair of black ankle socks Dennis gave her.

The small gesture was unexpected. Casey slipped on the socks and picked the towel back up, using it to further dry her damp hair. Casey folded the towel and set it down in the hamper with her wet clothing. She exited the bathroom and spotted Dennis still standing where she left him. She noticed the fresh bandage on his neck and realized that Dennis must have dressed the wound she gave him.

Startled, Casey spotted the knife in Dennis's hand- the knife Patricia left with her.

"Patricia was supposed to check on you- she said she would-" Dennis let out a huff of air, breaking off mid sentence. His brows drew together in agitation and his eyes were burning with betrayal. "The test was supposed to prove your strength."

"What did Patricia expect me to do?" Casey inquired, taking a tentative step towards Dennis.

"There are two ways out of this room," Dennis informed her. "She showed you the first."

Casey eyed the knife and realized what Patricia intended. Patricia wanted to see if Casey would kill herself.

"I could hear you screaming," Dennis remarked, still not meeting her gaze. His grip around the handle of the knife tightened. He didn't continue speaking and the room lapsed into silence. Casey moved forward and pressed the palm of her hand against Dennis's chest.

"Dennis. I heard a girl screaming downstairs. Who was she?" Casey asked, recalling the blood curdling screams from before her episode. Dennis's jaw tightened.

"She was impure," Dennis informed her. Casey got a distinct impression that he was not willing to speak further on the matter. Her hand slid further up his chest until it rested on his shoulder.

"Dennis, I'm really grateful that you came for me," Casey admitted, trying to catch his gaze as she changed the subject. Dennis finally looked up and there was something broken about the gaze he gave Casey. She could see a bit of Kevin's shattered psyche reflected in Dennis's blues.

_I'm trying... to be good._

Casey leaned her weight onto the front of her feet and lifted herself up, pressing a soft kiss to Dennis's cheek. For once, he didn't become tense beneath her touch. Dennis leaned into the light brush of her lips and, when Casey pulled back, his eyes followed her.

"Are you hungry?" Dennis asked. Casey nodded, remembering the gnawing hunger in her gut. Dennis took her hand in his own, pulling it away from his shoulder but keeping it within his own, larger hand. His palm wrapped around Casey's and she focused on the feeling of his callouses rubbing against her hand. He squeezed her hand gently and opened the door. Casey felt her stomach flip.

Dennis led her through the doorway and she got a glimpse into the rest of the place he was keeping her in. She appeared to be on the second landing of a house. There were no pictures on the off white walls and the flooring was still hardwood. There was a staircase that descended to the first floor to her left and a hall that led to two separate rooms on her right. Dennis pulled her towards the stairs and Casey followed willingly. Her legs shook and nearly buckled beneath her, but Dennis caught her weight against his body.

"Sorry," Casey apologized, using Dennis as support for a moment. There was something warm and comforting about Dennis as opposed to the other personalities. Again, Casey was struck by the certain  _realness_ of Dennis. He didn't seem out of place in Kevin's body.

With Dennis's help, Casey made her way down the wooden staircase until they reached the bottom floor. In front of her was a large door with stained glass set in the shape of an oval. Casey wondered if it was the front door. A series of locks lined the frame, most of them currently locked and requiring a key to get through. The door would be useless to her. She stepped into a living room with boarded up windows. It was all clean- not surprising since Dennis probably maintained the building. It was sparsely furnished with only an entertainment center- sans television- and a brown leather love seat. Dennis pulled Casey through a doorway and into the kitchen. She glanced around and spotted the kitchen table. It looked like it should seat four, but one of the wooden chairs was missing. Casey spotted a few splintered off pieces of wood laying on the white linoleum.

"Take a seat," Dennis ordered. Casey did as she was told and Dennis moved over to the fridge, pulling the door of the large white appliance open and sifting through its contents. He pulled out a bowl of mixed fruit that had saran wrap covering the lid. Peeling it off, Dennis set the fruit on the table in front of Casey and returned to the kitchen counter, pulling a drawer open. Dennis retrieved a fork for Casey and returned to her side, giving her the utensil as he settled into the seat to her left. Casey was a bit off put by the way he watched her as she ate, but she chose wisely not to comment on it.

The fruit was even better than what she'd been given in her room. Casey ate it quickly, savoring the taste before greedily drinking the remaining juice. A bit dribble onto her chin and, before she could get it herself, Dennis reached over and swiped it off with his yellow handkerchief. He pulled back and laid his hand out on the table, drumming his fingers a bit.

Casey knew she was gaining a bit of his trust. She needed to weigh her next words carefully.

"Dennis, do you think I'm pretty?" Casey asked, adjusting her seating position so that her knee brushed his. Dennis's eyes widened behind his glasses and Casey took advantage of his surprised by settling a hand over Dennis's. His fingers stilled under her touch.

"Yes," Dennis answered.

"That means a lot to me," Casey informed him with a small smile. "Do you want to kiss me?"

"I shouldn't," Dennis replied, shifting a bit in his seat. Dennis stood, but Casey maintained her hold on his hand. She rose alongside him and took a step closer. She could smell the detergent on his clothing. He didn't move away from her and Casey could see Dennis battling with himself over how to react to her advances.

Casey didn't have very much experience with men outside of her uncle's perversion. She wondered if she could ever even stomach being with a man intimately. Looking up at Dennis, Casey tried to pocket her aversions. She needed Dennis if she was going to get to Barry and she would need both of their help in defeating the Beast. The Beast only existed because Dennis, Patricia, and Hedwig believed in it.

"I like you Dennis- a lot," Casey stated, reaching up and cradling his face in her free hand. Her thumb brushed his cheekbone. She leaned into him a bit more and this time Dennis met her half way. His lips brushed hers softly and Casey returned the kiss, letting Dennis take the lead. His hands moved towards her waist and Dennis pulled her closer to him. Her body was against him and she wound her arms around his neck, drawing Dennis closer to her.

Something about kissing Dennis seemed okay to Casey. She didn't feel self conscious or uncomfortable underneath his touch. He touched her as if she were one of the wonders of the world, marveling at every inch of her. His fingertips dug into her sides almost painfully. One of his hands moved and tangled into her hair, turning her head a bit so he could press a soft trail of kisses down her neck. Unexpected shivers of pleasure ran across Casey's skin at the contact.

Casey pulled away from Dennis just enough to get a better look at him. His pupils were dilated and his mouth hung open as his chest heaved with each heavy gust of air he exhaled. She smiled encouragingly up at him.

Dennis glanced around the room a bit uncertainly. Casey used her hand to gently nudge his face back towards her.

"We can go back to my room, if it would make you more comfortable," Casey offered. She'd noticed the way that Dennis watched her closely ever since she left the room. He was keeping tabs on her as if she were a bird looking to slip free into the air.

"I'm not going to leave you, Dennis. I want to stay with you, after all," Casey assured him. "As long as you stay with me."


	5. Conscience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter includes sexual content between two consenting adults. There will also be a reference to Casey's experience with childhood sexual assault. That particular section will be italicized. For readers that have difficulty dealing with that content, please feel NO obligation to read any italicized text at that point. The section is brief, but I would not feel comfortable not informing you ahead of time that it is coming. If any of the topics addressed in this fic ever upset you in any way, I would like to apologize,
> 
> Thank you for your continued support. While reference to childhood sexual abuse is addressed in the tags, I just wanted to be clear that it is my intention that this will be the only chapter that addresses it in such a fashion.

Dennis led Casey back up to her room hesitantly, but he didn't leave. He was becoming more confident around her and Casey was beginning to pick up on more aspects of Dennis's personality. The man was definitely accustomed to a dominant role, but was often battered into submission do to his lack of self confidence. Someone had managed to instill a low self esteem into Dennis over a long period of time. With encouragement, he could be brought out of that shell, but Casey wondered who had made Dennis hate himself.

Was it Patricia that told Dennis his thoughts were corrupt? Perhaps it was Kevin's mother that convinced Dennis that his touch was filthy. Casey could empathize with the feeling. Whenever she did make attempts at relationships- even friendships- she always felt like her touch was tainted.

The brush of her fingertips was like oil spilling into the Atlantic, spreading and poisoning everything in its wake. She felt as if touching someone was the quickest way to ruin them- just like how she was ruined.

It was different with Dennis. The two of them were both damaged goods. Casey didn't fear desecrating him with her touch and, with time, he was more than willing to return her caresses. When he touched her, it didn't feel like she was being smothered. His touch was feather light and warm.

When they reached her room, Dennis shut the door behind them and immediately resumed kissing Casey. His kisses were growing hungrier and less restrained each time their lips reconnect. Casey felt a flutter in her stomach whenever he would draw away and look at her with his hooded gaze. Dennis seemed to worship Casey in a way even she recognized as unhealthy. She didn't point that out though. Something about it felt good- to be wanted for more than just what someone could get from her.

Before Casey knew what was happening, she was stumbling back into her bed. Her legs buckled and she collapsed against the mattress. Dennis fell alongside her and his legs slipped between Casey's, lightly pushing her thighs apart with his own. Dennis was much bigger than her- his body towered over Casey's smaller frame. His fore arms pressed into the mattress on each side of Casey's head. He leaned down and his lips brushed hers softly.

Casey's skin was warming up considerably. One of Dennis's hands moved and began to brush the skin just above Casey's waist band, slipping beneath her shirt. Casey took in a sharp inhale of breath as Dennis's hand splayed across her stomach. His hand was large and covered most of her stomach in a way that caused his fingertips to rub against the bottom of Casey's sports bra. One of her hands ran up his chest and she pressed it against his chest. She could feel his heart beating against his ribs. Its speed matched up with Casey's own racing pulse.

Dennis whispered Casey's name as if it were a prayer and she felt a twist of guilt in her gut. Even if Casey could rationalize all of this as being for her own survival, it wouldn't change the fact that Dennis's feelings were genuine.

None of Kevin's personalities were liars- unlike Casey. They would hide aspects of the truth but, in their own way, they would still tell you everything. Patricia was the most vague of them all. Hedwig was blunt to a fault. Dennis was different. He told the truth as he believed it to be.

Casey hesitated when Dennis's mouth returned to hers for another kiss and he sensed her resistance. His entire body stilled and his eyes found Casey's.

"Are you okay?" Dennis asked. Casey was caught off guard by the genuine concern in his eyes. Had she wrapped Dennis around her finger this easily? Was it more than that?

No one- outside of the sympathizers during her time post kidnapping and the trial against her uncle- ever asked Casey if she was okay. Even if she showed up with a burn mark just a little to high above the shirt collar or changed into gym shorts that exposed the bruises on her legs, no one would ever think to question her well being- at least, not to her face. There were always the concerned teachers that would call home. They never thought to accuse the charismatic John of misconduct. It was always "We think Casey might be in an abusive relationship. Perhaps she's fallen in with the wrong crowd?".

Now Dennis was asking if Casey was alright, gently brushing some stray hairs out of her face as he warily watched her for any facial ticks that could give away her thoughts. The pad of his thumb ran back and forth across her left cheekbone.

"Is this too much? I understand. You don't have to-"

Casey kissed Dennis, abruptly ending his train of though. Her arms wrapped back around his neck and she pulled his body back against hers. There was a newfound freedom in her actions. Casey didn't feel driven by survival to be with Dennis. She wanted to be with him.

When Casey's fumbling hands began working at the button's of Dennis's shirt, she watched a blush creep up his neck. Whilst Dennis was a good kisser, he seemed to grow a bit clumsier and obviously less experienced as they moved forward. He knew what he wanted but seemed unsure how to bring it into reality.

Dennis dipped down and began kissing Casey's neck, sucking and nibbling as she worked at the buttons on his shirt. Casey's breathing sped up and her head fell back against the comforter. Their position was beginning to grow uncomfortable, however, and Casey's legs were protesting the angle.

As Casey's thin fingers pulled the fabric of Dennis's shirt free from his pants, Dennis stood to assist her with removing the article of clothing. Casey took the opportunity to drag her body all the way onto the bed, bringing Dennis with her. She pulled back just enough to look at him, taking in view she'd only seen when he was the Beast. A flash of manic blue eyes and the screaming of metal bars bending filled her ears and Casey sealed her eyes shut against it.

Before she could slip away, Casey felt Dennis press a soft kiss to the base of her throat.

"Stay with me, Casey," Dennis whispered so softly that she almost thought she'd misheard him. Casey's eyes reopened and she no longer saw the Beast reflected in Dennis's blue eyes. They were bright and dilated with desire.

"As long as you stay with me," Casey promised.

Her shirt was slipped over her head and deposited next to Dennis's. She almost laughed when he folded it before setting it down. If he took the time to fold every article of clothing they removed, Casey had a feeling they would be here for awhile.

That wouldn't exactly be a bad thing though, would it?

 _This is still the same guy who abducted you- the one that helped bring the Beast into existence,_ a rational voice piped up in Casey's head. She knew it had a very good point, but Casey couldn't see that evil in the Dennis in front of her now. How could the man that looked at her the way Dennis was looking at her intentionally cause her arm.

 _It was Patricia_ , Casey reasoned even though even she didn't quite buy the excuse. Her thoughts were interrupted by another kiss- this one placed just below her belly button. Casey took in a quivering breath, unable to draw in more. Her hands fell to the mattress and she gathered the comforter into her fists. Dennis moved away from her again and began working at the button on his slacks. His fingers slipped clumsily and Casey giggled despite herself. Reaching up, Casey took hold of the button on his pants and undid it herself.

Dennis made quick work of removing his pants and Casey's skinny jeans followed so the two were left with only the thin material of their underwear separating them. Casey's head spun with the sudden revelation that she was in such a state with Dennis.

Seeing him without the majority of his clothing was enlightening. Dennis was handsome- Casey knew that before he stripped- but he wasn't a flawless canvas. A thin, white scar followed the downward curve of his left hip bone. When Casey's hands ran up his back, she felt the thin impressions of more scars beneath her touch. Whenever her hands brushed over one of Dennis's old wounds, the older man would shiver,

Dennis moved closer to Casey and she felt the manifestation of his desire press against her as her legs instinctively hiked up and around his waist. A sudden nervousness washed over her. She was frighteningly close to having sex with Dennis and a part of her knew how screwed up that was. With everything in the air between them, how could Casey give that part of herself to him?

With another brush against her more sensitive area, Dennis managed to make Casey's thoughts dissipate. A tightening feeling was beginning to build up in her stomach.

Hipsters and boxers were removed and then one of Dennis’s exploring hands slid lower. Casey took in a sharp breath when she felt one of Dennis’s fingers dip inside of her. The pressure wasn’t uncomfortable but it was completely foreign.

"Is this okay?" Dennis asked, checking with her. Casey nodded, biting her lip to repress a moan as he began moving the finger and soon added another. Breathless, Casey wrapped her thin arms around his neck and felt embarrassed by the way she panted under his touch. Dennis didn't remark on her shortness of breath though. He kissed her- soft kisses, heated kisses, chaste kisses, passionate kisses. There were kisses that yearned to be more and kisses that reminded her of drinking a fresh glass of sweet tea. Another finger was added and Casey’s body tried to accommodate the new addition.

“ _Dennis_ ,” Casey whimpered as he began to leave a burning trail along her jawline and down her neck while his fingers continued to do the thing that sent shivers through her body. Her hips bucked almost instinctively with a need to feel him deeper and more.

Her inexperience showed once again as she found herself unable to sneak even the smallest of peeks at Dennis before his fingers were removed. She felt strangely empty but the moment soon ended as something else entered her. This time Casey's moan was louder and her head was tossed back against the pillows as her eyes slid shut.

Dennis's body slotted against hers perfectly. She could feel his every muscle and his prominent hip bones as he slowly entered her, allowing her body enough time to adjust to the size of him inside of her. A strange tightness filled her chest, stealing away her ability to breathe properly. Casey thought breathing was difficult before and now it was impossible. Dennis buried his face into her neck as he let out a shaking breath.

Suddenly, nothing was okay anymore.

_"You're doing great, Casey-bear. You're a good girl, aren't you?" Uncle John whispered, entering Casey despite her whimpered pleas for him to stop. She felt as if something within her was tearing from the strain of his intrusion. Tears burned in her eyes and left salty trails down her cheeks. Her uncle's hot breath fanned across her neck and she pleaded for all of it to end. He bucked into her so roughly that she thought her bones might shatter beneath the pressure. He had her bent over with her face shoved into the pillow. She couldn't breathe. She was suffocating as the pillow blocked her mouth and nose and her own panic clouded her thoughts._

"No!" Casey croaked, shoving at Dennis. The man slipped out of her, staring down at her in shock. She couldn't see him though. Her eyes were glazed over and filled with visions of her uncle grasping at her. Casey frantically scuttled away from the man in front of her, choking on the sobs that rose in her throat. She pressed her thighs together and tried to steady her quivering limbs.

"Casey?" the man asked, reaching for her warily. She flinched away from his touch. "I'm not going to hurt you, Casey. It's Dennis. Come back to me."

_Dennis._

Casey's vision began to clear and Uncle John slowly morphed back into Dennis. His eyes were full of concern yet again and he was quickly recovering himself with his boxers. He grabbed the closest thing he could reach and ended up handing Casey his shirt. Dennis carefully helped her guide her arms into the sleeves of the oversized shirt and she practically drowned in the material. Without asking, Dennis quickly buttoned up the shirt for Casey. It covered up her entire torso and much of her thighs, to Casey's relief. She felt a rush of embarrassment at her own actions. She'd thrown herself at Dennis only to get caught up in her own baggage and force him away.

"I'm so sorry. This is so embarrassing," Casey admitted. Dennis shook his head and replied in his soft baritone.

"Don't say that," he demanded. "You have no reason to be embarrassed or to apologize to me. It was too much. I should have seen your discomfort sooner."

"Look, you don't have to baby me just because I'm weak-"

"You are not weak, Casey Cooke," Dennis interrupted her, catching her off guard as her eyes slid up to see him giving her a stern glare. "You are the strongest woman we have ever met- that  _I_ have ever met."

"If this is about my trauma making me stronger, Dennis-"

"I don't think that's it," Dennis admitted, cutting her off again. His lips pressed together into a thin line as he seemed to consider her for a moment. "I think you are a strong woman, naturally. You were not forged into this strength. It has always been a part of you. It aided in your survival, but you did not gain it through hardship, did you?"

_"You're such a strong, brave little girl," Casey's dad told her as he pressed a cold compress to her scraped up knee. "Lord be with the guy that tries to mess with you, right Casey?"_

"My dad was a strong guy. He raised me for eight years on his own before he died- a heart attack," Casey admitted. "I get how you guys wouldn't see it, but he wasn't strong because of the pain he went through when he lost my mom or anything like that. My dad was strong because he loved me and he knew I needed him to be strong. He didn't have superhuman strength or anything flashy like that, but he was like a superhero to me."

"I'm strong because being weak isn't an option," Casey stated, frowning a bit.

Dennis seemed to be thinking over everything Casey had told him. She could see the doubt forming in his eyes- doubt in Patricia and her Beast. It was almost comical that Casey was making the most progress with convincing Dennis just by being honest with him rather than trying to manipulate him. Perhaps, getting him on her side wasn't as inconceivable as it seemed.


	6. Punishment

Dennis pulled Casey back against him as they laid out on the bed together. He curled around her, wrapping his arm around her protectively. Casey felt her muscles relax and her head rested against Dennis's bicep. She could hear him breathing in her scent. Dennis shifted a bit behind her and then finally settled into place. His body radiated a comforting warmth. As they rested together, Casey felt herself begin to drift off. Darkness overtook her and she slept without any nightmares or dreams.

Only darkness.

When Casey awoke, she was woefully aware of the empty space behind her. Casey moved onto her back and squinted through the brightly lit room. She wondered if the light switch for her room had been moved to the other side of the wall- outside the room itself. She groggily pulled herself into a sitting position and heard noises on the other side of her bedroom door. Casey scrambled back on the bed and against the wall. The door opened and her captor's head stuck in. He wasn't wearing glasses and there was a peculiar naivety to his gaze.

"Patricia said you were back but I didn't believe it," he stated, entering the room. Casey observed that he was wearing a green track suit with black stripes down the arms and the sides of his legs. Hedwig moved towards her with a bit of hesitation in his step, but with wide eyed curiosity in his eyes. "I'm not supposed to talk to you."

"Why not?" Casey inquired, folding her legs beneath her. Hedwig continued to approach. Casey tried to block out the memory of him swinging a bat at her.

"Miss Patricia says that you're just like us but that you need to be tested," Hedwig informed her. "I have green socks now."

"What kind of test?" Casey asked, thinking back on Patricia's last 'test'. The woman had left Casey alone with a knife and no food, waiting to see if Casey would take the 'easy way' out.

There was nothing easy about killing yourself though, contrary to popular belief. Forcing a blade through your flesh and dragging it across your body was difficult and outright excruciating. No one could imagine what it is like to watch your blood well up in the wake of an injury you crafted. Doing enough damage to kill yourself with a knife? Casey shivered at the thought.

"I'm not 'spose to tell you," Hedwig admitted. His face twisted with discomfort. "Hey, did you kiss Mister Dennis?"

"Um, well," Casey sputtered, biting her lip to quell the blush that began to burn beneath her skin. "Yes."

"You shouldn't do that," Hedwig told her, his frown deepening. He perched on the opposite end of her bed, considering her.

"Look, Hedwig, kissing doesn't lead to pregnancy," Casey sighed, wishing someone else had taken the time to explain it to the nine year old. Hedwig shook his head stubbornly at her reply.

"That's not it," Hedwig argued. "Miss Patricia says that Mister Dennis is sick."

"What's wrong with him?" Casey asked, feeling concern rise up within her for the other personality. She'd had her suspicions about Dennis's mental health ever since she arrived in this room, but none of the alters openly discussed it with her. Hedwig seemed genuinely upset as his mind strayed to whatever was wrong with Dennis. It occurred to Casey that the young boy might have developed an attachment to the older personality. Dennis was a pseudo guardian for Hedwig in many ways.

Casey rubbed the edge of Dennis's shirt sleeves. She was still wearing his dark green dress shirt. It was rumpled and obviously slept in. She smiled a bit internally about the seemingly small gesture, remembering how hard Dennis worked at buttoning it for her.

"She says that Mister Dennis isn't stable- that he doesn't like what the Beast is doing. She's going to have to put him to sleep with Kevin," Hedwig informed her. Casey felt her stomach drop and bile rise in the back of her throat. If Dennis was stowed away, Casey would have no hope of defeating the beast.

Another feeling welled up within Casey. She didn't just want to keep Dennis in the light for her own safety. The idea of Patricia snuffing him out just because he disagreed with her made Casey furious. Dennis was kind beneath all of his awkward mannerisms and stiff exterior. He genuinely cared for her even when she was trying to exploit him for her own gain.

"Can I speak with Dennis?" Casey requested, hoping that Hedwig would give way to the other personality.

"No. Miss Patricia said I'm not 'sposta give him the light anymore. She's coming so I gotta go," Hedwig replied, rubbing the back of his neck. He moved from Casey's bed and she lurched forward, grabbing his arm in her panic. "Let me go!"

"Wait, Hedwig, I was wrong!" Casey insisted. "I think I might be pregnant. I really need to talk to Dennis, please!"

"I told you!" Hedwig gasped, halting in his tracks. His eyes were wide with terror. "I-I'll get Mister Dennis but you can't tell Miss Patricia. She'll be really made at me."

"I promise, Hedwig," Casey assured him. The boy nodded, still appearing unsure even as he backed out of the room. Hedwig turned and left, shutting and securing the door behind him. Casey's mind swirled as she waited for Dennis to return to her. How was she supposed to convince him of Patricia's intentions? Was it too late? If Patricia was already confident in her abilities to simply stow Dennis away in the recesses of Kevin's mind, could Casey do anything to stop it?

Time dragged for Casey before the door reopened and Dennis appeared. He was wearing his black dress shirt tucked into his slacks. Casey ran forward and threw her arms around his neck, knocking her body into his. He stumbled a bit but returned the embrace once he regained his balance.

"Is everything alright? Hedwig seems to be under the impression that you're pregnant?" Dennis remarked, pulling away only as far as he needed to to get a clear look at her face. His eyebrows were yet again drawn together in a mix of concern and confusion. Casey was beginning to find the expression to be endearing.

"I needed to talk to you," Casey admitted, averting her gaze from his as she tried to gather her thoughts. "I didn't want to lie to Hedwig, but he told me that Patricia didn't want him to let you have the light."

"Why would she say that?" Dennis asked, leaning a bit further away from Casey. Her arms slipped from around his neck and she began wringing her hands frantically. Dennis's hands moved to her shoulders and his thumbs rubbed calming circles there. "Casey?"

"She told Hedwig that you have doubts about the Beast and- and she wants to make you sleep far away just like Kevin," Casey informed him in a small voice. It was surprisingly hard to tell Dennis about Patricia's plans. What if he didn't believe her? She didn't have nearly as much history with him as he possessed with Patricia.

Dennis sighed and slumped a bit, leaning against the door frame for support. His gaze moved above Casey's left shoulder and remained there as his eyes unfocused. Casey remained silent as the older man attempted to gather his thoughts. His eyes closed and the furrow between his brow only deepened. The silence between them seemed to stretch on forever. Casey kept expecting Patricia or Hedwig to surface and for her to be thrown back to the drawing board all over again. After several tense moments of silence, Dennis finally opened his eyes.

"I believe you," he informed her with a defeated look in his gaze. "I have been having doubts about all of this. Patricia knows that. We are supposed to be protecting Kevin, but you were right. Kevin would not be able to live with what we've done. I can't live with what we've done."

"Dennis, it's not too late to stop them. You can't save the ones they've already killed, but you can stop Patricia and the Beast from killing anyone else," Casey assured him, reaching up and pressing her hand to his face. Dennis leaned into the touch. "You are so strong, Dennis. If anyone can go up against the Beast, it's you."

"It sounds so easy when you say it," Dennis remarked, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to Casey's temple. "I will do my best."

As Dennis drew away from her, his facial muscles relaxed and he reached up, removing his glasses. Casey felt a harsh twist in her gut and was fairly certain that she was now facing Hedwig. He looked a bit regretful.

"Sowwy Casey, Patricia's really mad. I've got to give the light to her now. I'm really sowwy," Hedwig apologized, pulling away and leaving. The door slammed behind him and Casey rushed forward to catch the handle. The lock slid into place before she could even touch the knob. Casey cursed and felt tears of frustration pricking her eyes. Dennis was slipping away from her like water through her fingers along with her hope of escape and there was nothing she could do.

Her fate was in Dennis's hands now.

Patricia returned after forcing Casey to endure several hours of tense silence. She opened the door and allowed it to swing shut behind her as she entered. This time she was wearing a red shawl over a dark brown turtle neck with a matching skirt and a silver pendent hanging from her neck on a long, thin chain. She was carrying a small stack of clothing and took in Casey's state of dress with a raised brow.

"I see someone has been a busy girl," Patricia remarked, setting the ensemble down on the bed beside Casey. She snatched up the clothing and quickly pulled on the light jeans over her hipsters. She opted to stay in Dennis's shirt however, rolling the sleeves up to her elbows. "Are you going to insist on staying in that shirt, my dear? It's far too large for you and looks as if it's been slept in. I've brought you something far more suitable."

"It's Dennis's and I'm not letting you take it," Casey snapped, narrowing her eyes at the feminine alter.

"How noble of you," Patricia commented with a sneer. "Sit down. Your hair is a mess."

"I want Dennis to brush it," Casey countered, refusing to obey Patricia. She could sense that she was walking a tight line. Patricia's sneer thinned into a tight-lipped smile that made Casey's insides twist.

"That is simply not going to happen," Patricia informed her.

"Then I guess it just isn't getting brushed, is it?" Casey snapped, sneering back at Patricia. Patricia struck out at her before Casey could react, her knuckles scraping across Casey's cheek and sending her spiraling to the floor. Casey failed to catch herself in time and cracked her elbow on the way down. The cool, hard wood was unforgiving. Rolling onto all fours, Casey had no time to even gather a proper breath before a hand tangled itself in her hair and yanked her to her feet. She cried out at the pain that the forceful grasp caused her.

Eye to eye once again with Patricia, Casey spat in the woman's face. A bit of blood was mixed in with the specks of saliva that splattered across Patricia's face. Patricia snarled, flinging Casey back off to the side.

"You truly are a vile little creature," Patricia remarked. She seemed to be broiling just beneath the skin, restraining her own fury. "You should feel honored by the Beast's interest in you, insolent whelp! If this is how you wish to behave, we shall see how you feel after a few days with no food."

Casey didn't make a sound as Patricia left the room, her shawl fluttering behind her masculine form. The door slammed shut and locked. Yet again, Casey was alone.

 _A few days,_ Casey thought to herself. She stared at the pale wood on the door, wondering if Patricia was going to stay true to her word.

Minutes stretch on into hours and Casey found herself wandering around the perimeter of the bedroom. She occasionally grasped the collar of Dennis's shirt and lifted it up to her nose, inhaling the remnants of his scent in the fabric. True, it was mostly sterile detergent and hints of pine sol, but it was still there. Casey was beginning to miss him. She was growing more and more concerned about him as time wore on.

Dennis was locked away somewhere and even though Casey wanted to trust in him, doubts needled at the back of her mind. Patricia seemed to outmaneuver Casey at every turn.

Once exhaustion set in, Casey made her way back to her bed and slipped under the covers without bothering to undress. She hugged her arms around herself, willing away the beginnings of hunger pains in her stomach.

It was only a few days.


	7. Submit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one but the next one is going to be much longer.

Time dragged on and Patricia didn't return. After several hours, Casey's hunger pains began to subside. She kept drinking the water from her bathroom sink in order to keep thirst at bay. With time, she began to feel a headache forming. Spots danced in her vision and Casey was forced to return to her bed. The longer she laid there, the harder it became to move.

No one came for Casey.

She found herself sleeping for long stretches of time, craving any form of nutrition. Casey tried to keep her thoughts on a rational path, but it became more difficult with the passage of time spent laying in her room. A part of Casey was suspecting that three days had come and gone. The pain in her head moved to her muscles and she could feel the gradual loss of weight.

 _Maybe, if I tell Patricia I'll behave, she'll give me food,_ Casey wondered.  _Maybe she'll forgive me._

Casey looked down at Dennis's rumbled shirt and felt her heart twist at her own thoughts. She couldn't betray Dennis like that. Somewhere, in Kevin's head, Dennis was trapped by Patricia and her vile Beast. Casey couldn't-

Footsteps approached the door and derailed Casey's thoughts. She could smell the hint of something on the air. Scrambling across the floor, Casey struggled to reach the door. Her mouth salivated at the mere idea of food. The door opened and Patricia was on the other side in her usual matronly attire with a silver tray balanced on one hand. On it was a chicken breast covered in a thin layer of black pepper. Casey stared up at Patricia with desperation in her gaze. The woman smiled down at her and then her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"You smell atrocious. Have you done nothing besides wallow in your own filth for the past five days?" Patricia asked.

"Five days?" Casey croaked, surprised by the information.

"Well, we discussed it and it was decided that you needed more time to fully grasp your situation, my dear," Patricia informed her. "Now, you can eat this delectable lemon pepper chicken if- and only  _if_ \- you do as directed."

Casey nodded warily.

"Good girl. Now, I am going to set this down in front of you and you are going to wait to eat it until instructed. Understood?" Patricia stated, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at the dark haired girl. Again, Casey nodded. With a smile that made Casey's toes curl, Patricia leaned down and set the tray on the hardwood floor. Casey's attention diverted to the chicken and she gazed at it hungrily. When Casey leaned towards the food, Patricia lashed out with her hand, smacking it across the back of Casey's head. Pain blossomed from the point of contact and Casey quickly jerked away. "Wait."

Casey looked up, making eye contact with Patricia. The two held one another's gaze for a stretch of time and then Patricia's lips curled up into another twisted smile.

"Eat it. Do it without your hands, actually," Patricia ordered. Casey bit back a sarcastic retort as her stomach gurgled. Her head dipped down and Casey tore into the meat with only her teeth. She felt like a dog tearing into its owner's scraps. The chicken was delicious and juice dripped down her chin. Casey heard the sounds of Patricia moving away from her, but she continued to tear into the chicken. She could hear running water coming from her bathroom. Once all of the chicken breast was gone, Casey finally lifted her head and spotted Patricia standing by the bathroom door. "Come along."

Mustering her strength, Casey got to her feet and hobbled weakly over to Patricia. Patricia held the door open and gestured for Casey to enter. The tub was filled with steaming water.

"Strip. It's about time we clean you up, don't you think?" Patricia commented. Casey felt her hackles rise and shifted away from the female personality. "Do we need to give you a couple of days?"

"No!" Casey cried out. Her hands moved up and she slowly worked the buttons loose on Dennis's shirt. It slid off of her shoulders and she folded it, setting it down on the sink. The rest of her clothing followed but Casey found herself too weak to properly fold it. Patricia huffed impatiently and took the stack from her, depositing it in the hamper. Casey became very aware of the fact that she was naked in front of Patricia. Casey did her best to cover herself with her arms and hands. She'd never been nude in front of any of Kevin's alters. The fact that Patricia was the one seeing her in this state made Casey's legs quiver and her eyes water. She was pissed.

"Get in the tub," Patricia demanded. Casey stepped into the tub, slipping into the water. It was a fairly deep tub and the water came up to her collar bone. The water itself was scalding and Casey's pale skin began to turn red very qucikly. Patricia perched herself on the side of the tub and grabbed Casey's head, wrenching it backwards. She filled a cup with the hot water and then poured it on Casey's hair. Patricia repeated the motion several times before pumping shampoo into her hand. Casey tried not to jerk away as Patricia lathered the soap into her hair. The cherry scent wafted into Casey's nostrils and it reminded her of Dennis. "You are a very lovely young woman, Casey."

"And you're a very ugly woman in a man's body," Casey snapped. Patricia growled and Casey didn't get a chance to take in air before her head was submerged in the soapy water. She was held just beneath the surface, struggling against Patricia's grasp. Casey felt her lungs begin to burn with a need for oxygen. Finally, Patricia brought her back above water. Casey inhaled sharply, taking in all the air she could. She heard a deep chuckle behind her.

Patricia began adding conditioner to Casey's hair. Once she was done, she rinsed it out and moved on to cleaning Casey's body. Casey tried to pull away from the sponge and Patricia's claws.

"Hold still, Leala," Patricia ordered, her voice straining.

"My name isn't Leala," Casey coughed. Patricia ran the sponge against her arm so roughly that Casey could feel layers of her skin being scrubbed away.

"It wasn't but now it is," Patricia corrected her. "I like the name Leala, don't you? It is a French name- means obedient. I like that."

Patricia lightly brushed some of Casey's hair from her face, smiling softly down at her.

"From now on, I think I will call you Leala," Patricia decided. She dropped Casey's final limb into the water and then stood. "Be a dear, Leala, and dry yourself off. I'm going to go fetch you something decent to wear and, when I get back, we will do something about that hair of yours."

With that final statement, Patricia left the bathroom. Casey pulled the drain in the bath and stood. Her legs wobbled a bit beneath her. She made her way out of the bath tub and grabbed the towel Patricia left sitting on the sink next to Dennis's rumpled shirt. Casey dried off and her hand instinctively went towards the shirt. She hesitated and then withdrew her hand. Patricia was escalating and Casey needed to keep from riling her up for the time being. Instead, Casey wrapped the towel around her torso and grabbed the shirt. They moved into the room and she slipped the shirt under her pillow where Patricia wouldn't be able to take it.

Patricia returned and placed her latest stack of clothing at the foot of Casey's freshly made bed. Casey took the clothing and slipped into the bathroom with it. It wasn't anything of Casey's. The outfit seemed to be new. Casey pulled on the matching underwear set- the panties and bra were both white and plain. Over that, she pulled on white stockings and then yanked what appeared to be a dress over her head. It was yellow with a white lace border on the bottom and around the waist. The collar was a soft curve of clean white. Casey exited the bathroom tentatively, not comfortable in the ensemble. Patricia grinned at Casey when she spotted her.

"You look lovely, Leala. Come over here and let me fix your hair," Patricia requested. Casey lowered her head submissively, walking over to Patricia. She set down on the edge of her bed and Patricia sat down behind her. Patricia set about brushing Casey's hair. The brush caught on the tangles in Casey's hair and Patricia yanked through them violently. Once she was finished, Patricia slipped a silk, white bow through Casey's dark locks and tied it into a neat bow. "There we go. Now, you are much more presentable."

"Yea? For who?" Casey asked, staring down at her stocking clad feet.

"The Beast, of course."


	8. Stand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am terribly sorry. I fully intended to have this posted on the 11th but, thanks to the powers that be, the entire chapter was wiped from the face of the earth. (My laptop decided to restart itself without my permission and that meant that all of my work was deleted.)  
> Enough of my complaints.  
> On with the show!

After Patricia left, Casey returned to the bathroom and found her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She already looked like a different person. Her cheeks were hollowing out and tinged purple.  Splotches of dark grey were pressed into the skin beneath both of her big, brown eyes. Some of the muscle mass in her arms was gone- they were thinner and her elbows were sharper. Casey's skin was already as pale as paper- a sickly shade of translucent white.

 _I'm going to die here,_ Casey though, reaching out and touching the cool glass. There was a dull ache in her bones and she was already beginning to grow tired again. Her hunger was still there, only provoked by the meal Patricia gave her. Staring at the reflective surface of the mirror in front of her, Casey balled her left hand into a fist. She pulled back and then swung forward, striking the glass at the center. The thin pane of glass shattered- a few chunks broke free while a couple smaller pieces cut into and embedded themselves into Casey's hand. She let out a hiss, yanking her hand back and cradling it close to her. She picked out some of the pieces of glass in her hand and then examined the ones that broke off of the mirror. One of the pieces was large and fairly sharp. Casey gingerly lifted it with her uninjured hand.

Leaving the bathroom, Casey walked back across her bedroom. She could feel how cold the hardwood was through the thin material of her stockings. Reaching her bed, Casey slipped her hand under the pillow and pulled out Dennis's shirt. It no longer held his scent, but it was a reminder of his promise to her. A sob caught in Casey's throat when she remembered how easily Patricia cast Dennis away.

_"I will do my best."_

Casey heard a loud crash from downstairs and male shouting mixed with what she thought was Patricia's voice. After wrapping the shirt around her bleeding hand, she hurried over to the door and pressed her ear against it. She couldn't make out the words that were being said, but she could hear the sound of flesh hitting flesh and then something banging into a wall.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs and Casey scuttled away from the door just before it was shoved open. On the other side of the threshold was her captor. He was wearing dark grey slacks and socks on his feet. His torso was loosely covered in a similarly dark grey dress shirt. It wasn't tucked in all the way around and the buttons were mismatched. Half of the collar was sticking straight up. When Casey's eyes made it up to his face, she recognized the gaze of the man staring back at her through his askew metal frames.

"Dennis?" Casey asked in a timid voice, dropping the long, jagged shard of glass she'd been holding.

"Casey."

Dennis said her name as if it were an answer to a lifetime of prayers. She felt a flutter in her stomach and rushed forward, throwing her arms around his neck before she could stop herself. Pulling away, Casey reached up and straightened his glasses.

"Gosh, Dennis. You're a mess," Casey joked weakly. She could see a bruise forming on his jaw. The skin there was almost black with yellow discoloration surrounding it. Casey brushed her fingers across it and felt an ache in her chest when Dennis flinched away from her touch. Redirecting her focus, Casey set about unbuttoning and then correctly buttoning Dennis's shirt. She tucked it the rest of the way into his pants and then smoothed it out with her hands. "There. Much better."

"Thank you," Dennis replied gratefully, gracing her with one of his subdued smiles even as his eyes held a profound concern for her well being. Casey felt her heart stutter a bit in her chest.

Casey read a lot of books in detention and one thing she never understood was when a character drew connections between their feelings for someone else and heart palpitations. The only time Casey remembered her heart hammering against her chest so violenty that she feared it may crack her ribs was when its pulse was quickened by fear. With Dennis, she was beginning to see what those fictional characters meant. It wasn't so much a hasten in her pulse as it was a shiver in her lungs and a warmth spreading out beneath her skin. It was a tremor that spread through her limbs out of excitement rather than terror. The feeling was reminiscent of fear, but not the kind that held her mind captive. The fear manifested itself in the form of adrenaline pumping through her veins.

A part of Casey could almost imagine getting out of the place with Dennis. They could get to know one another in a way she never would have imagined before. The two of them could, potentially, form a relationship that transcended past captor and captive- a friendship, maybe even-

"You have to run," Dennis informed her, his smile vanishing.

"Run? What are you talking about? I can't leave you," Casey insisted, taking Dennis's hands in her own. Her eyes searched his for another solution- an alternative to simply abandoning him. If Casey left, Patricia and Hedwig would subdue Dennis again and the Beast would be released. Regardless of if they found Casey, the Beast would kill again.

"I can only hold them at bay for so long," Dennis informed her. "I can't be with you here while I am fighting them in here."

Dennis pointed towards his head, scowling a bit as if he were in pain. Casey wanted to help him. Seeing him in pain caused a harsh twist in her chest. Dennis pulled out of her grasp and unhooked a ring of keys from his belt loop before placing them in Casey's hands.

"The keys are numbered. One will lock the door to your- this room. Three through eight will unlock the front door. You have to go," Dennis elaborated, curling Casey's fingers around the keys. Casey squeezed her eyes shut to hold back any treacherous tears. This is what she wanted, right? She earned Dennis's trust- he was going to let her escape.

It was more than that though. Casey didn't just claim his trust. She held Dennis's affection- his heart- in her hands now.

"Get on the bed," Casey ordered. Dennis seemed confused, stepping backwards from Casey. "I'm going to tie you down. It won't do much, but every second counts, right?"

Dennis nodded, seeing her point, and began walking over to the bed. Casey stripped off one of the sheets and tore it into strips that she then used to bind his wrists and ankles to the bed frame. She used a spare piece to wrap around her injured hand as a replacement for Dennis's shirt.

"Lock the door on your way out. It won't hold him, but it might delay him," Dennis instructed her. Casey nodded and she felt a tear slip loose as she stared down at Dennis's immobilized form. The man's scrunched his eyes shut and let out a groan. "Go."

Casey leaned down at pressed a soft kiss to the man's forehead, allowing another tear to slip loose. It slid down her cheek and dripped off of her chin and onto Dennis's face.

"I'll be back for you, Dennis. I swear."

Casey picked up the large piece of glass from the floor with the hand that was still wrapped in cloth.

Fleeing the room, Casey slammed the bedroom door shut behind her. She fumbled a bit with the keys before finding the number one and sliding it into the lock. The metal slid into place and Casey stepped back, viewing the door from the other side. An odd sensation washed over her. The door was paler on this side- almost white. The handle was beginning to grow a bit tarnished with time. Patricia probably didn't clean like Dennis did.

"I'm sorry, Dennis," Casey whispered as she turned away from the door and began running down the stairs. She took them two at a time and her stocking clad feet slipped on the polished hardwood. One of her feet slipped out from under her and Casey was sent sprawling onto her back even as her descending continued. Casey clattered down to the main floor and landing in a heap of thin limbs and yellow cloth. The dress was already a bit torn and fraying in some places from her rough descent. Gathering herself to her feet, Casey set about sifting through the keys.

 _Was it three through eight? I think that is what he said,_ Casey thought to herself. She found the three and tried it on the bottom luck. It wouldn't even fit into the slot so she tried it once more on the top. It slid into place and Casey twisted it to the left, unlocking that lock. Her fingers were fumbling for the number four key when she heard a loud tear from up stairs and the sound of something big thumping against the floor. Casey's hands began to perspire and it made grasping the metal key a bit more difficult. Hurriedly, Casey slid the fourth key into place and cranked it to the left. She grasped the fifth key just as a loud crash sounded from atop the stares. Wood splintered and metal groaned as something large slammed against the door on the second landing. In her shock Casey lost her grip of the key chain and it clattered to the floor. Bending down, she scooped up the keys and fingered  through them. Casey mentally muttered a slew of swear words that would make a nun blush. Five was located and then inserted into the lock. Casey turned it and the third lock was finally undone. Casey moved on to six and internally cursed Dennis for installing so many locks in the first place. No one needed six locks on one door. Her own door only had one!

Seven was in Casey's hand when the door upstairs gave way. She heard the Beast's horrendous roar from overhead and knew she wouldn't have time to get the last two locks undone. Turning tail, Casey sprinted through the sparsely furnished living room and into the kitchen. She frantically looked around and spotted a small spray canister next to a package of gloves and a surgical mask.

It was Dennis's equipment.Casey slid on the mask and didn't bother with the gloves. She grabbed the canister and directed it towards the only entrance into the kitchen.

 _This probably won't be enough to sedate the Beast. One of the others, maybe,_ Casey realized. The Beast hurtled into the room and Casey held his gaze. Seeing him again, Casey realized she hadn't remembered his eyes correctly.

They weren't a manic blue at all. They were an unstable black from where the pupils were so dilated that they consumed the blue irises. His muscles rippled beneath reddened skin and the vein stood out on his temple. Fear rooted Casey's legs into place. The Beast let out a guttural laugh when his eyes took in her state.

"You look like Dennis," he claimed. Casey tightened her grip on the canister, narrowing her eyes at him. Her legs were beginning to quiver noticeably.

"And you look like a psychopath on really heavy steroids," Casey quipped. "Have we met before? Oh, that's right. You tried to eat my fucking leg."

"You are Pure," he reminded her with an emphatic nod in Casey's direction.

"You lot keep saying that but I'm not drinking the koolaid," Casey replied with a scowl that was hidden behind the white mask.

"Why do you resist? You are one of us and we are the ones that shall inherit the earth!" the Beast argued.

"I don't think cannibalism is the next step in human evolution- just saying. It all seems a bit contradictory towards the actual  _point_ of evolution. Procreation and all that?" Casey countered. If she could keep talking, she could gather up enough time to think of a plan. She doubts that Kevin's body could house the Beast for long periods of time, especially with him exerting himself and not being able to replenish his energy.

_Teeth ripping into the flesh of my calf- a tearing pain and I see spots of darkness in my already impaired vision. I have to break free. Like a doe caught by a mountain lion. I'm dead. I have to be dead._

Casey gathered her thoughts back, fighting off the dissociation. She needed to stay in the moment for her own survival- for Dennis.

"The Impure-"

"That's enough!" Casey cried out as visions of Clare smiling and Marcia dancing filled her mind. She had to force back sobs as her chest tightened in pain. So much potential resided in those girls- those normal girls with happy childhoods and bright futures that were smothered out by the man- the  _thing_  in front of her.

_"Hey, um, Casey, right?" Claire verified, moving over to Casey's work station. Casey was currently sketching an arrangement of dead flowers her teacher was planning to throw away. In the center was a lovely, vibrant yellow carnation that was still very much alive in comparison to the wilting assortment of lilies and smaller carnations around it. Casey looked up at the dirty blonde with a raised eyebrow. People didn't usually approach her- even in art class. She suspected that they thought she might pull a knife on them. Claire was a pretty girl- long, wavy blonde hair that curled under her chest and tepid blue eyes set into a tan face. "I'm Clare."_

_"I know," Casey replied stiffly._

_"I was wondering. You're a lot better with pencil sketches than I am. Which pencil would you use for the shading here?" Claire asked, showing Casey the page her own sketchbook was open to. Claire was sketching her best friend Marcia. The portrait was good, but it was coming off a bit too sketch-like. Clair was pointing towards the corner of Marcia's eyes where it was lightly crinkled mid laugh._

_"Honestly, this would look really great in charcoal. It's fine like this, but charcoals can bring out a bit more natural contrast. If you wanna use a pencil, probably a 4B. Does that help?" Casey offered. Claire nodded along with her advice and then gave her a bright smile._

_"That does! Thank you!" Claire agreed, clutching her sketchbook back against her chest. "Hey so, I'm having this birthday party. It's not anything insane. My dad's going to be there. There's going to be Italian food and cake. You should come. I'm bringing in actual invitations tomorrow. They'll be all glittery and atrocious, but at least they'll have all the information._

_Casey wasn't sure she wanted to go to one of Claire's parties. The girl was nice enough- at least to Casey's face- but she wasn't fond of crowds. Then again, it would get her out of her uncle's house for a while. Casey replied, "That sounds cool. I'll have to ask my uncle, but sure."_

Claire didn't deserve to die like that.

_"Come on, Casey! Dance with us!" Marcia pleaded. The other party goers with shimmying and waving their arms around to a song Casey wasn't familiar with. Marcia grabbed her hands and Casey had to fight back the urge to flinch. Marcia twirled Casey once and then released her. "Get it, girl!"_

_"I don't really dance," Casey admitted awkwardly._

_"No kidding. Come on, follow me," Marcia replied with an easy going smile. She led Casey through a few simple moves and Casey did her best to mimic the movement of Marcia's hips. When she looked back up, she was startled to see Marcia looking at her with a wide grin. Marcia possessed the kind of smile that lit up a room. It was kind of blinding._

Marcia didn't deserve the humiliation of being found by the police in such a state.

"You're a murderer trying to justify killing innocent people! Who cares if they didn't know suffering? They were just  _girls_. Normal girls with normal families. You're not special because your childhood sucked. You're an asshole for using how someone treated you to justify doing even worse!" Casey snapped. "You call this protecting Kevin? How is making him out to be a cannibalistic  _serial killer_ supposed to protect him? You're just the perversion of someone else's issues. You're not an evolution- you're a fucking asshole."

"How are you protecting all of them, hm? Last I checked, normal people don't need to be  _bulletproof_. Dennis is the only one trying to protect them and you all just hid him away because you're afraid of the truth," Casey growled out between her teeth. She felt tears beginning to run down her cheeks in salty trails. Casey almost laughed. She was so certain that she'd used up all of her tears but now there were more.

Tears for Claire and Marcia's shortened lives.

Tears for Dr. Fletcher's sacrifice.

Tears for Kevin's pain.

Tears for Barry and the others that were silenced in the wake of the Beast.

Tears for Dennis.

"You disgust me."

The Beast leaped forward with his arms outstretched towards her. Casey twisted away from his grasp and then directed the canister at him. She sprayed it and he halted for a moment. The Beast shook his head and made a move towards her again. Once more, Casey sprayed at him.

"Hedwig? Are you in there? I want to talk to you! It's about my kiss with Dennis!" Casey called, hoping that she would be able to summon up the younger personality. The Beast snarled and clawed out at her. His nails dug into her leg and he dragged her. Casey felt her world tilt as her leg was wrenched out from under her and her back slammed into the floor. Groaning, Casey tried once more to call out the child. "Hedwig! Please!"

The Beast loomed over her and opened his mouth to speak but then his facial muscles went slack. His pupils slowly retracted to reveal the pale blue of his eyes.

"Casey? Why are you on the floor?" Hedwig asked. "Why are you wearing Mister Dennis's mask?"

"I'm so sorry, Hedwig," Casey apologized, lifting the canister and spraying him in the face. Hedwig's eyes rolled up into the back of his head and then he collapsed, falling off to one side and narrowly avoiding landing on Casey. She got up and observed the wound on her leg. There were a few shallow gashes in the shape of small crescents embedded in the skin. Blood stained the white stocking a washed out pink as it seeped out slowly in a few trails that led down to her ankle.

Getting to her feet, Casey limped over to the sink and began digging through the cupboards. Under the sink, she located a bundle of thick chords. Casey gathered them into her arms and then returned to the prone form of her captor.

Observing him in a sleeping state, Casey wondered who to even refer to him as. It was Kevin's body, but she couldn't help but think of Dennis as she gazed down at him.

Kneeling at 'Dennis's' side, Casey set about pulling his wrists behind his back and binding them. She wrapped the thick chord around his ankles as well and then brought them together. All of her knots were as tight as she could feasibly make them. Stepping back from her handiwork, Casey wondered what she should do next. She could flee from the house and hope that she came along a passerby or a phone quickly or she could explore the upstairs of the house. Even she knew that staying was risky, but she couldn't bring herself to leave Dennis alone here. She still thought she could save them.

"Stay," Casey instructed the knocked out figure. She limped out of the kitchen and back into the living room. Slowly, she made her way up the stairs and took in the decimated state of her door . The bottom half barely clung to the door frame by bent hinges. The top half was cracked and spread across the floor in chunks of ragged wood. A jagged semicircle of drywall was gone from where the lock used to be. The top of the bottom half was a rough mess of splintery wood and wood fibers that stuck up among the torn wreckage.

It was hard to believe that a one inch thick piece of wood and a bit of metal stood between Casey and freedom for so long. She turned away from the room and moved down the hall. The first door opened to reveal a bathroom. There was nothing of import inside- only a wide assortment of toothbrushes and toothpaste. Casey closed the door and moved further down the hall. The second door was locked when she tried the steel handle. Pulling out Dennis's key ring, Casey grabbed the number two key and gave it a go. It was the only key that Dennis didn't tell her about. The lock slid out of its slot as she turned the key and then Casey pushed the door open.

The room that she entered was a bit more full than the rest of the house. There was a full size bed tucked into a corner with a narrow nightstand beside it. On the night stand was a digital alarm clock. It was a little after two in the afternoon. The comforter and pillow set on the bed were beige with off white sheets whereas the bed's frame was made of a dark wood. The dark yellow walls were covered in what appeared to be the drawings of a child- mostly stick figures and houses. At the foot of the bed, there was a window with a sheer, yellow curtain filtering the incoming sunlight. Casey ran to it and yanked the curtains aside.

The sight before her was astonishing. They were in some form of spread out suburbia. The neighbors weren't very close, but she could see one house across the street with a very long and winding gravel driveway. The yard that stretching in front of the house she was in appeared to be unkempt. Large patches of dirt made up most of the land. Where there was grass, it was long and unruly- filled with weeds and the like. A CONDEMNED sign was sticking out of the dirt near the road. A crumbling pathway of stone led from the front door to the road. Off to the side, Casey glimpsed the fender of a vehicle residing in the driveway.

On the key ring was one key that stood out from the others. It had a black base with a Dodge symbol. Casey realized that it was the key to their car.

Rejuvenated by her revelation, Casey made her way back downstairs and set about unlocking the final locks on the door. She wrenched the door open and took in a breath of fresh air she'd been desperately craving. The smell of earth and the chill of the breeze met her. The feel of sunlight on her skin almost brought Casey to tears. She didn't believe that she would ever see the blue of the afternoon sky ever again- or the blue of any sky, for that matter.

"Casey?" a familiar voice called out. She recognized Dennis's accent and hesitated in the doorway.

She could leave.

She  _should_ leave.

Casey knew that she should run as fast as she could, take the car, and drive until she ran out of gas. She should put as many miles between her and this house as she could. Really, there was a lot of things Casey  _should_ do.

Casey turned back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it would be longer!


	9. Barry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey made a decision that she's not quite sure she won't live to regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry, I've been a bit MIA. This chapter is a bit on the shorter side, I know, but I do intend on updating more frequently and with more content. Thank you for your understanding!

Casey hesitated just outside the kitchen, her legs locking up beneath her. Dennis was in there, still sprawled on the floor and hog tied. She felt a sudden, unpleasant feeling swell up in her chest. What if it wasn't Dennis? What if she stepped into the kitchen and it was a trap? So many worries and doubts ran through her mind and she cast one more glance over her shoulder in the direction of the still open door. A chilled breeze made its way into the room and brushed across the back of her neck.

"Casey?" Dennis called out again- this time much quieter. There was a defeated tone to his voice that caused an ache in Casey's chest.

"I'm still here," Casey informed him, stepping into the kitchen and immediately zeroing in on Dennis's bound figure. Casey approached him slowly, surveying him for any signs of deception. If it were one of Kevin's alters, she could be in trouble.

Dennis's eyes found hers and relief washed over him.

"I thought- I was so certain that you were dead or gone," Dennis explained with an emotional waver to his voice. Kneeling in front of him, Casey gentled ran her hand along the side of his face. "The Beast has been... detained- for a moment."

"I'm not worried about him right now. I'm worried about you, Dennis," Casey stated, feeling a few tears slip loose.

"Why did you come back for me? If I hadn't been able to-"

"You stay, I stay. Remember?" Casey reminded him with a weak smile.

Dennis smiled up at her and Casey felt her heart swell for a pleasant reason this time. Her weak smile broadened and she bent down, pressing a kiss to Dennis's temple.

"When I lost awareness, I thought I was going to lose you. I had no idea what was going on. Patricia kept taunting me. Every one was scrambling. They nearly woke Kevin," he informed her, shifting uncomfortably. "Then I managed to break into the light and you were gone. There was just blood."

Dennis jerked his head towards the small puddle of blood on the floor. He winced a bit and Casey noticed the dark bruise forming on his jawline. Leaning forward, she pressed a soft kiss to the purple splotch of skin.

"I'm okay. We're going to be okay."

* * *

 

The road disappeared beneath the rumbling tire's of Dennis's SUV. Casey's thin hands were wrapped around the wheel so tightly that the whites of her knuckles bled through the pale skin. Soft music came through the vehicle's speakers in a weak attempt to soothe her raging thoughts. Darkness encroached upon her field of vision as the towering trees on each side of the thin road clustered together to block out the moon's pale light. The gas was barely residing at a quarter of a tank now. It was a matter of time before Casey would have to stop driving from either exhaustion or a need to refill the tank with the money she swiped from Dennis's wallet.

Casey hadn't stopped driving since she pulled out of the driveway of that damn house with her tires squealing, kicking up gravel in her wake. Stopping would give her too much time to think- too much time to regret the decision she made.

She made a point to drive with her window down, letting the lukewarm night air whip her short hairs into a frenzy and she took in a deep inhale of the distinct scent of pine and earth. The fresh air was a gift from the heavens. Occasionally, the dark haired girl would glance over at the passenger seat with a mix of apprehension and guilt.

The prone figure beside her barely hinted at its own life besides the occasional rise and fall of his chest with each stuttering breath that fills his lungs. Thick chords bind his wrists and ankles together along with the yellow rope that restrains him to his seat. His head has fallen forward, his chin brushing the clean material of the dark green dress shirt that Casey changed him into. He's not wearing his glasses- they are resting in the console between the silent pair. Reaching over, Casey has to stop herself from running her hand along the short, dark brown hairs that grow from his head.

Idly, Casey wonders what Dennis would look like with hair and imagines for a second that he might look a bit like a hippy Charles Xavier back in the 70's. Gently, she wipes a bit of blood from his busted lip. His fall to the floor did a bit of superficial damage, but nothing too noticeable outside of his lip and the yellowish bruising along his jawline.

"I'm not leaving you," Casey assured the sleeping figure, pulling her hand away and returning her mostly full attention to the road. It was hard to completely tear her thoughts away from her passenger.

A groan left Dennis's barely parted lips and Casey nearly swerved off of the road. She quickly corrected her course and cast a shocked glance at him. His eyes were fluttering, the lids struggling to lift as if a heavy weight resting upon his lashes. The corners of his mouth curled into an uncomfortable grimace and his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Dennis?" Casey inquired hopefully, trying to quell the sense of dread that flooded her lungs like water.

"Huh?" the man replied, finally peeling his lids open to reveal milky blue eyes that were bleary with the remnants of sleep and dreams. The twin orbs slid over to Casey and the man's eyebrows rose in confusion. His entire manner was a stark contrast to Dennis already.

At least Casey didn't recognize him.

"Do I know you?" he asked, reaching to rub his face and realizing that his hands were bound together. "Why am I tied up? What is going on?"

As he woke, the man's accent came through. Casey though it might have been a New Yorker accent, but she hadn't really met many before to compare it to. Most of her experience was with crime shows- her latest obsession that filled in as a substitute for human contact.

"I'm not sure we've met. My name is Casey Cooke. I had to tie you up. I'm sorry," she informed him cautiously. She still didn't know who she was dealing with. Her previous dealings with Kevin's alters didn't go very well. In fact, she had quite a collection of scars to attest to their various encounters- both physical and mental.

A shiver ran down her spine at the memory as it flashed behind her eyelids when she dared to blink.

"Wait. The others- Did they hurt you?"

"I think I returned the favor a bit," Casey joked grimly, eyeing the cut on his lip that was beginning to split back open. He winced when it pulled.

"I get the sense that I've seen you before. My name's Barry," he mentioned. Casey slammed on the break, bringing the car to a screeching halt. The smell of burnt rubber met her nostrils and she nearly. careened into a tree before the SUV stopped.

" _You're_ Barry?" Casey blanched, turning her body to face him. He nodded, his head bobbing forward with the motion. He was a lot more expressive than Dennis and he was an open book whereas Dennis was like a foreign tome with three locks binding it closed and text written in an ancient language using invisible ink.

"The one and only- ow."

Barry's nose scrunched in response to the pain.

"Have you- Is Dennis okay?" Casey asked, unable to stop herself. He slipped back out of the light after assisting her with getting him to the car. The entire experience was too exhausting on Kevin's body. Up until Barry, no one had stepped into the light for hours.

"He, Patricia, and Hedwig are banished from the light. I will never allow what they did to happen again-  _never_ ," Barry spat, his face curling in disgust. "That monster- their  _beast_ -"

Barry broke off, unable to finish his statement as he took in the blood underneath his fingernails. His eyes moved over to Casey and she could feel him scanning her. The blues rested on the pinkish stain on her stockings.

"What did they do to you?" Barry inquired, staring up with wide eyes full of disbelief. "What are you doing to us?"

"We had no idea who would seize the light next. I had to take precautions," Casey informed him.

"We?"

"Yes, we. Dennis helped me. He saved my life," Casey elaborated. Barry withdrew from her, his upper back pressing into the window.

"He is one of their  _Hoard._ His sickness infected the rest like a virus. He brought that damned Beast upon us!" Barry shouted, coming unhinged with each frenzied word that left his mouth. Casey put the car in park and relaxed her grip on the wheel. Barry's pupils were dilated and a cold sweat had broken out across his forehead.

"What do you mean?" Casey pressed, hanging onto his every word.

"The stories were Patricia's- that crazy  _bat_. She's just like Kevin's mother. She was awful to Hedwig, but I didn't see that at the time. I was blinded by my own self importance. I was supposed to decide who got the light. Dennis- he had an incident. There were these two. girls at the zoo and they grabbed his hands, forcing him to touch their- their  _breasts_. Most of the group was fine, but not Dennis. He changed," Barry stated, shivering in disgust at the memory.

"And he's changed again," Casey insisted. "Dennis fought the Beast for me."

"You really think you've changed him. He can't be fixed. He's  _sick_ ," Dennis argued.

"Isn't that what people say about people like you. People with Dissociative Identity Disorder?" Casey pointed out with a raised brow. Barry's jaw went slack and then closed slowly as he considered her statement.

"I still don't trust him and I really don't know two things about you, missy," Barry began with a sight. "But you did get rid of the Beast, for now."

"I couldn't have done it without Dennis," Casey informed him stubbornly. Her plan could come together if she could only gain Barry's trust. She originally assumed that earning Dennis's trust would be the harder part of her task.

Already, Barry was proving to be a challenge.

Shifting the car into drive, Casey started back onto the road.

"Where are we going?" Barry asked apprehensively.

"I'm not sure. To be honest, I'm actually lost. I wasn't exactly  _conscious_ when Dennis dragged me out here," Casey remarked, squinting at the dark surroundings as she navigated the road. "You wouldn't happen to have any idea, would you?"

There was a stretch of silence in which Barry considered Casey for a moment. She could sense his unease and apprehension towards recalling any memory that he might have of the drive.

"I don't remember much," Barry acquiesced.

"I read once that some identities can't remember what happened when other identities are in control because the memories are built in the minds of those identities. So, if Dennis did something, the memory is stored in his mind and not yours, right?" Casey inquired, recalling some of her research into their disorder. Barry smiled a bit despite himself.

"That's about right. Sometimes, two identities can share the 'light'. There are a limited number of occasions that I managed to secure the light from Dennis when he was driving along a road similar to this one. I'm not sure, but I remember a street sight for a highway. He was signaling to turn right. I guess he was tired since he fell asleep at the wheel," Barry mentioned. Casey pondered his statement. She doubted that someone as conscientious as Dennis would simply nod off at the wheel. If anything, he would have informed Patricia and handed the light off to her.

Perhaps his faith in the Beast had been wavering before he captured Casey.

"Maybe we'll come across it," Casey remarked hopefully, trying to lighten the tone. She had the impression from Barry's video that he wasn't typically a somber fellow. Perhaps, she could bring out a bit more of his own personality. "Want to play a game to pass the time?"

"What kind of game?" Barry inquired, shifting a bit in his seat.

"Twenty questions?" Casey offered.

"Can I start?"

"Sure."

"What in heavens are you wearing?"


End file.
